The End
by DelicateLion
Summary: Four girls. One choice. An end to the selection.
1. Chapter 1

"Miss?" prodded Anne insistently, shaking me gently. "You need to get up."

I stirred and groggily swung my legs over the side of the bed, feeling much like a zombie would coming back to life.

But I wasn't. It had been seven days sent I had almost gone home. A whole week since Maxon had last spoke to me alone. Every day it seemed more and more obvious that my days in the palace were numbered, and I had begun to give up hope. I was heartbroken before, but now with that slight glimmer of a chance that this could all work out was even more heart wrenching. Before it was clean and quick, now it seemed it would be drawn out and messy.

Lucy helped me from bed and guided me to the bathtub, which had already been filled with warm, comforting water. My three maids stood there expectantly with dark circles under their eyes. They had been trying so hard. They had been overworking themselves for me.

"He was with her again last night," cautiously stated Lucy, obviously unsure if she should tell me. Ever since the three had vowed to help me win Maxon's heart back, they had taken to listening to the gossip in the servant's quarters and reporting it back to me. Maxon had been with Kriss three times now this week.

When they were done preparing me for the day, I left for breakfast. With each careful step down the stairs, I repeated to myself that I could do this. That it was worth doing. That I could fix all of this. Each step offered a new phrase of encouragement that would prepare me for yet another disappointing day.

Lost in my own thoughts when I rounded the corner, I collided with a guard. I stumbled backwards, barely catching my balance before I tumbled to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Lady America," replied an all too familiar voice. Aspen continued forward in his patrol without another word. I stared for a moment, waiting for him to look back, to add some sly comment, but he continued forward. He took the stairs two at a time until he was out of sight.

My stomach twisted as I began my confidence boosting mantras once more.

I had to do something.

I took my seat at the table, waiting patiently for the others to arrive. I looked around the empty room, concentrating on Maxon's empty chair. I had had tugged my ear three times this week, and to each he shook his head. What was the point of keeping me around if he wasn't even going to give me a chance?

I groaned in frustration. I felt like I was constantly carrying around this weight in my chest. Before, I had been unsure between Maxon and Aspen, and now it seemed I had neither. Aspen hadn't come to see me since I was almost sent home. Had he finally decided to move on?

"Rough morning?" asked Kriss as she bounced into the room, her face glowing.

I quickly pulled myself together and returned her smile. "Just hungry," I lied.

Instead of listening to Kriss as she went on about some mishap about a family ring that her maids had carelessly broke, I dwelled on the fact that she had been with Maxon the night before. That he seemed to be devoting all his time to her, and couldn't spare a moment with me. Jealously bubbled in my veins, while I smiled and nodded at her story, keeping a polite face.

I tried to soothe my strong emotions as Celeste and Elise entered the room. I focused on keeping myself pulled together. Shortly after, the royal family entered.

Through-out breakfast, I continually tried to catch Maxon's gaze, but instead kept catching the King's smug glare. Meanwhile, Kriss carried the majority of the conversation, keeping it light and pleasantly focused. I internally kicked myself for not being more engaged. I needed to find a way to prove myself to everyone. I needed to win everyone over.

Queen Amberly excused herself from breakfast first giving instructions for the four of us to meet with her in the Woman's Room that afternoon.

"That gives us the whole morning to ourselves," stated Kriss happily. "Do you want to help me fix my ring, America?"

Realizing I must have paid too much interest in her story, I covered by saying I had planned on enjoying the morning outside with my violin.

"It's probably going to be one of the last nice ones before winter," I explained further. "You're welcome to join me." I added hesitantly. Being around Kriss was hard.

"It's already freezing out!" exclaimed Kriss, before turning to Elise and trying to commission her company while she tried to fix her ring.

After Maxon and the King excused themselves, I waited an appropriate length of time before leaving for my room to retrieve my violin. A morning in the gardens did actually sound quite relaxing. Hopefully the cold air would help clear my head. Maybe then some ingenious plot would come to me.

When I entered my room, I was met with eager lips. I immediately pushed the intruder away, jumping backwards.

Maxon closed the door behind us.

"I only have a few minutes. I haven't been able to keep you off my mind for days." And he closed the space between us and kissed me again, this time more gently.

And everything suddenly felt like it was worth it.


	2. Chapter 2

A few moments later, Maxon pulled away. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as my thoughts raced on how to make the best use of our limited time together.

Questions bombarded me. Why had he ignored me for the past week? Why had he gone on at least three dates with Kriss and hadn't even spoken to me alone? Why was I still here?

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to see you," Maxon apologized, reading the confusion on my face. "It's not that I didn't want to. It's just complicated. Father thinks…" He trailed off, absentmindedly shaking his head.

"Well," I began, forcibly keeping my tone light and teasing despite my frustrations, "how am I supposed to prove anything to you if I can't even see you?" I kissed him lightly on the cheek.

I was taken aback by how bothered the question made him. He ran his fingers through his hair and wouldn't meet my gaze for a moment.

"Just give it time, okay? I haven't forgotten about you or anything, okay? Just trust me."

"Okay," I echoed, perhaps too glibly.

"I mean it, America," he said, staring me right in the eyes. "But I have to go. How about I make it up to you tonight? I'll figure something out."

I nodded slightly, but he was already heading out the door. "Oh-Okay!" I called after him.

I spent the rest of the morning sitting in my room, absentmindedly playing the piano. I wanted to be alone to digest what Maxon had said and revel in his words.

I focused on the fact that Maxon wanted to see me, it was his father who was stopping him. But, his father had yet to force him to send me home. So there was hope.

A siren interrupted my daydreams of what could have been if I hadn't messed everything up, if the cameras hadn't caught Marlee, and if I was able to make a decisive decision between Aspen and Maxon.

I jumped from the bed and quickly slid into my shoes and grabbed a book Silvia had loaned me before I had floundered on national television. Trying to move quickly, I began to scramble for my notebook I had been using to take notes in.

My door burst open.

"America, you need to get out of here now," insisted Aspen, grabbing my wrist forcefully and pulling me from my room.

"Why have you been ignoring-?"

"Go. Now. The sirens were delayed."

I hesitated. Then ran for the secret staircase I had become all too familiar with. At the door, I paused again to look back, and saw Aspen standing there loyally, waiting for me to disappear out of site.

"Go, Mer!"

I stumbled clumsily down the stairs, running my hand along the wall until I got to the door leading to the safe room. I took a deep breath before I walked in in order to collect myself. I had taken it as a personal challenge to try to handle myself appropriately in all public situations, especially when the King was present. I had to find a way to change his mind about me.

It had become surprisingly apparent that without the King's approval, I would never be able to see Maxon, let alone marry him.

"She's it!" called Silvia as I stepped into the room. The guards closed and bolted the heavy door behind me.

Although Maxon was already talking with Elise, our eyes met for the briefest of moments. I could have sworn I saw relief in them. By the time I managed to smile, he had already reverted his attention back to Elise.

Calmly, I walked over to one of the beds inserted into the wall and put my few belongings into one of the lower ones. I watched as everyone settled into his or her proper places from my cot. After the door was shut and securely locked, the King left Queen Amberly's side to go discuss what seemed to be important matters with the guards. Queen Amberly settled into her own corner of the room. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Maxon moved from Elise to Celeste then to Kriss.

I remembered back to the Halloween party, where Maxon had danced with all the other girls multiple times before ever approaching me. He had told me he was saving the best for last. I soothed myself with this memory of that night that everything almost worked out perfectly. Still, I didn't enjoy feeling so uncertain in my position here.

Maxon spoke with Kriss for what felt like forever while I busied myself with Silvia's book. It was a book devoted to the various countries and cultures around the world. I opened the book to a large section on New Asia and decided it was as good as any.

"Is it interesting?" questioned Maxon as he sat next to me in my cot.

"Absolutely riveting," I responded with sarcasm leaking from my words.

He moved closer to me under the guise of trying to see what the book was detailing.

"Oh, yes. New Asia. Very fascinating. You know I-"

"Maxon!" beckoned the King, calling him to join the discussion with the guards.

"You'll have to excuse me," Maxon finished instead. "I'm glad you're all right," he added under his breath. He looked at me apologetically as he left to join his father.

I watched as the conversation continued. The King made no effort to include his son in the discussion; I watched as he spoke over Maxon.

Frustration began to boil inside of me again, but I knew I had to keep calm. My strong emotions were what had gotten me into this mess. I had to find a way to channel them productively in this world where no one said exactly what they meant and always thought at least two moves ahead before acting.

Was this really the world I wanted to belong in?

My immediate desire was to sink into my cot, but I knew that that would get me nowhere. Glancing around, I noticed that Celeste was doing just that; she sat alone in a corner reading one of her magazines. Kriss was on the other side of the room with Elise, both of them near the meeting with the guards. I wondered if they were eavesdropping, but quickly dismissed the idea, as they seemed too engrossed in their own conversation. I contemplated going and joining them, in order to listen to just what the King and Maxon were discussing.

As I watched them giggle over something Kriss said, I wondered how it could bother them so little. Sure, rebel attacks were becoming something of a consistent thing, but that didn't mean they should be something that everyone just accepted. I wondered if they had ever asked Maxon about them, as I had on countless occasions.

Next, I noted Queen Amberly still sitting silently in her secluded corner. She seemed very pale, but maintained her calm façade as she normally did. She sat with her hands folded in her lap with her eyes cast downward.

I gathered my nerve and stood and approached her. I curtsied when I was a few feet away.

"Queen Amberly," I said politely as Silvia had trained us to. She stirred slightly, meeting my gaze with a small smile. "I was just wondering if you were all right?"

"Yes, thank you, Lady America."

I smiled in what I hoped to be a comforting way. She made me nervous suddenly. I had nothing to lose, but I didn't want to dig myself into an even deeper hole. I wasn't sure just how solid the ground was underneath me after everything I'd been through in the last week.

"You always look so calm in these situations. I know everyone respects you for that and it certainly helped calm me the first time I ever experienced this. How do you do it? How does it not frighten you?"

The Queen laughed. "Would you like to sit?"

I nodded eagerly. I moved a nearby chair so that it angled next to the Queen while still being able to observe the rest of the room. I sat gracefully, trying to remember all the lessons Silvia had drilled into my head.

"I'll tell you a secret. Just between us girls," she said quietly. Her tone was one of light-hearted confidence. "Every time that siren goes off –and even when it doesn't- I'm terrified. I've never been not frightened"

"Then how do you do it?" I asked, more eager to continue a conversation with the Queen than anything else.

"In much the same way you do, I suspect," she noted, acknowledging the fact that I had been one of the few that hadn't allowed the Rebel attacks to bring me to a publicly emotional fit. "I do everything I can to keep the people around me safe, and then I try to reassure myself knowing that we are as safe as I can make us."

I nodded slightly. "Sometimes I wonder what they're after," I asked slowly, hoping not to push any boundaries too far.

"Some people in this country are very unhappy. I am sure you're familiar with that feeling, America."

I was taken aback by both her boldness. I nodded slightly, not wanting to seem too eager to agree in case she suspected me of sympathizing with the rebels.

"But to attack the palace… It's a rather extreme action. Surely there are more productive ways to handle the situation," I stated politically.

She smiled teasingly at me. "You seem to be very familiar with extreme actions yourself."

My face flushed pink. I started talking fast, trying to explain the situation. "I wish I could take that back. It messed everything up. I was just in a bad place with everything that happened with Marlee and I just-"

"Do you think we should get rid of it?" she asked conversationally, surveying the room in such a way that it appeared that we were talking about our latest dresses we had had designed or the cold weather that had overtaken the warm days.

"Excuse me?"

"Do you believe we should get rid of the caste system in our country?" she reiterated. Her tone was not threatening, but I felt as if I was stuck in a difficult place. I took a deep breath, unsure of how to proceed. I remembered what Maxon had said and quickly recalled all the flaws the angry King had shattered my plan with.

"I believe that in order to preserve Illea, we must be willing to adapt to the needs of her people," I stated slowly, trying to instill confidence in each of my words. "What I presented in my original plan would have been too sudden and chaotic. However, I believe through small changes the caste system can work to our advantage in order to maintain order in Illea and happiness of all the castes. Eventually, the caste system may become obsolete, through gradual, small changes that allow people to move through the different castes by merits such as hard work and intelligence."

My eyes hesistantly met Queen Amberly's. My heart was racing in anticipation of her reaction. Instead, she just nodded slightly, with a very thoughtful look on her face.

"That's a very interesting opinion." She seemed neither displeased nor pleased. Just thoughtful.

We talked quietly about small happenings around the castle for the next few hours. I told the Queen of how excited I was to see the gardens covered in snow and she told me of all the foreign visitors we were expecting in the next two weeks: the French, the Italians again and even an ambassador from New Asia were visiting briefly. We were brought from our quiet conversation with the loud opening of the vaulted doors. As I looked up, I noticed the King quickly approaching with Maxon trailing several feet behind. I stood quickly and curtsied. The King brushed past me.

"Go back to your room," the King said curtly to me, as he turned to his wife.

"Yes, your majesty," I said politely, as I went to collect my things. As I grabbed my book, I kept looking toward Maxon, hoping to catch his gaze. I never did.

"You never went to the garden this morning," stated Kriss, suddenly appearing by my side. "I went, and I looked, and the guards said no one had been out there, and it was awful cold. Just like I said."

"I'm sorry. I stayed inside to play my piano instead." I had completely forgotten I had invited her to join me outside because of Maxon's surprise visit.

"So," began Kriss as she looped her arm around mine, as if we were the best of friends, "what was that all about?"

I looked back one final time to see the Royal family in a deep conversation in the corner of the secret room as Kriss lead me back toward my room. Maxon still didn't notice me.

"That?" I asked, playing confused. I had neither idea nor any desire to explain to Kriss just what we talked about. I liked her, and we had promised not to sabotage one another. However, the whole thing that happened a week ago was just too embarrassing to bring up again with her.

"You're conversation with the Queen," she stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "What did she say? What did you talk about? I wish I had thought of that."

"Oh. Nothing really," I stated dismissively. "Just small talk."

"Tell me everything," implored Kriss, not believing me.

I opened the door to my room to Anne and Mary huddled around a sobbing Lucy who was trying to pull herself together. Immediately, I forgot Kriss at the door.

The bedroom was a mess. Everything was out of place. Everything that once was in drawers was on the floor. My closet was torn apart; my beautiful dresses were shredded. Paintings on the wall were ripped from their holdings. There were papers of sheet music strewn across the floor.

"What's the matter? Is everyone okay?" I implored as I jumped to their side.

"We'll talk later, then," awkwardly added Kriss, as she closed the door behind me.

"Are you guys okay?" I repeated, looking them over quickly trying to discern any sign of injury.

"We're fine," responded Anne firmly, her hand making small circles on Lucy's back. "It could have been worse. We're just fine."

I wasn't sure if she was trying to reassure Lucy or me, but I accepted her response. It took several minutes for Lucy to calm down enough to speak.

"He's hurt," she finally managed to get out. She tried to collect herself. "He's in the H-hospital Wing right now."

Lucy began sobbing again immediately after. She crumbled into her hands. I watched as her small shoulders shook with every breath.

"Who? Who's hurt?" I demanded, looking expectantly toward Anne and Mary.

"Lucy has had a crush on a guard for weeks now," stated Anne, with a harsh tone in her voice.

"He's usually on your room rotation," further explained Mary, her tone more understanding. "Tall, black hair. Officer Leger."

My heart surged. "Officer Leger?"

Lucy nodded through her sobs.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you so much for reading. I **_**really**_** appreciate the reviews/follows/favorites. It means a lot. Just so you know, for the time being this story will be updated every Sunday. Thanks again for the support!**

The next thing I knew, I was racing down the stairs toward the Hospital Wing. My mind was focused on one thing: Aspen had to be okay. He just had to be. His family wouldn't be able to get by without him. He was my best friend. He was my first love. He was Aspen.

I threw open the Hospital Wing doors and was taken aback by the scene in front of me. Every bed was filled. All the nurses and doctors scurried around trying to tend to the wounded. My eyes searched for Aspen, but in all the chaos I couldn't discern one mangled body from the next. My adrenaline raced, and I had to force myself to take steady breaths.

It must have been a Southern attack, then.

I walked to the first bed on the left. My hands were shaking and my breaths were shallow. I stared at the wounded guard intently. It was not Aspen. His hair was blonde, despite the fact that it was made darker by a wound to his head. His lower right arm was already wrapped tightly. He stared absently into the distance; he was completely disconnected from the world.

He was someone to someone too. He had a family. He probably had a special someone back home, who would be heartbroken if she found out he had been killed during a rebel attack. He could have died doing his job; he could have died trying to protect me.

He stirred from his dreamlike state. It was obvious from his heavy eyelids and slow movements that he had been given a high dose of painkillers. I glanced around and noticed this seemed to be the treatment of choice. The staff was overwhelmed with the injured, and seemed to be focused on easing everyone's pain and treating the more serious injuries.

"Lady America," he slurred, trying to make a bow from his bed. He looked around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. "I don't…What are… Where is…"

"What is your name, Officer?" I asked softly, moving to the head of his bed and reaching my hand out to comfort him.

His eyes focused on me. "Fisherman."

"You've done a great thing, Officer Fisherman. Thank you."

He seemed relieved, although still very confused due to the opioids. He settled back into his bed, seeming much more peaceful as he drifted back to unconsciousness.

Readying myself for the worst, I moved to the next bed. A maid sat quietly. Tears silently flowed from her eyes. I searched her over for any readily apparent injuries and found none. She was more coherent, and after a few minutes I coaxed her into telling me her name.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Amanda?" I asked gently through her hyperventilating sobs.

"Water," she said softly, trying to calm herself. She was trying very hard to be the picture of calm, but was obviously wrought with shock. I nodded dutifully and a few minutes later returned to her bed with a large cup of water. It seemed to soothe her.

I continued in the same fashion. Bed by bed, I tried to find Aspen and help those along the way. I saw soldiers and guards along with maids and cooks. The rebel attack had taken a lot of people by surprise.

Mostly, I just fetched people cups of water, helped wipe sweat and dirt from people's faces and offered soft words of gratitude. A few bashfully commissioned my help in writing to their loved ones and others desperately asked me to make sure a particular someone was okay. The going was slow, but it was a welcome delay to whatever state I was going to find Aspen in.

"There you are," Maxon breathed with relief, coming up behind me and wrapping his arm casually around my waist.

"Your majesty," nodded the Guard I was speaking with. The pain medicine had made him especially talkative, and he had explained to me that he was only waiting for his arm to be stitched. He claimed it didn't hurt too badly and that it was superficial, but from the amount of blood that seeped from the white gauze laid over it, I somehow doubted that it wasn't painful. He was especially eager to return to his rounds.

Maxon nodded curtly toward the Guard, before directing all of his attention on me.

"Your maids told me I might find you here, that you ran out of there in a hurry this afternoon," stated Maxon perplexedly. He glanced around, obviously confused as to why I was here.

"There are a lot of wounded," I stated, choosing to state the obvious rather than explain what I was doing here. I wasn't even certain what I was doing here anymore. A frantic reassurance of Aspen's safety had turned into a social visit on all the wounded. Hours had passed, and I had only circled a little more than half the room.

"She's a keeper, this one, Your Majesty, if you don't mind my boldness. A real angel," the guard said loyally.

My face flushed pink. I averted my eyes, unsure of how to respond. Others from surrounding beds shouted their supporting statements, making my face grow gradually warmer.

"If you don't marry her, I certainly will!" shouted a drugged soldier from the other side of the room. Everyone laughed, including Maxon, who seemed to find the whole situation rather amusing. Others chimed in, teasing Maxon that he had competition.

The effect of the opioids and the relief following an attack lowered the inhibitions of everyone in the room. As I glanced around, I noticed Officers joking with the cooking staff, soldiers comforting maids. Among the injured, there was no distinction between the castes, if only for the briefest of moments. Although everyone treated Prince Maxon with nothing but respect, things that would have never been said on a normal day were briefly acceptable.

"Not if I get to her first," chimed in a familiar voice from a few beds down. Immediately, I went towards the source, searching the body over for any signs of serious injury.

Aspen's leg was wrapped tightly, his bandages stained a dark burgundy red. He cradled his arm as if the slightest motion sent him into a whirlwind of pain. His lip was bloody and a place under his right eye was already beginning to swell and bruise. After speaking to so many injured under varying influences of painkillers, I quickly discerned from his drooping, unfocused eyes that he had been given a large dose.

My immediate instinct was to embrace him, but I restrained myself. Tears welled up in my eyes from the pure relief of the situation. I realized that I had been delaying finding his bed because I believed the worst had actually happened: that I never would have been able to find a bed with Aspen's still living body in it.

"Officer Leger," I said softly as I approached the head of the bed, in the exact same fashion I had done for the rest of the room. Maxon did the same.

Aspen met my glance eagerly. I shivered. The way he looked at me, I knew he would do anything for me. He had broken the law just to be near me back home. His green eyes seemed to look right through me. Suddenly, I felt like I was back home in the tree house, where it was just the two of us.

"Seems you'll have quite the competition," joked Maxon, motioning to the room of suitors. The conversations had shifted from me to the other members of the Selection, and who else each person would be willing to marry.

I was drawn abruptly from my thoughts. Things were no longer like that. I was no longer just a girl running around after curfew to meet her secret boyfriend.

"More than you know, Your Majesty," responded Aspen, meeting the Prince's gaze. "Mer is someone very special."

Maxon pulled me closer to him. "I'm aware."

I quickly changed the subject before Aspen got himself – or me – into any trouble.

"Lucy – my maid – was very upset that you were hurt," I informed Aspen matter-of-factly, shooting him a warning glare. "You seem to have made quite an impression on her."

"She's a very sweet girl. You will have to pass on my most sincere apologies for scaring her. I doubt I will be seeing her for some time," responded Aspen, not missing a beat. He motioned to his leg. "Bullet to the leg. Doc says they'll have to remove the bullet once they get everyone else stabilized. I'll be on rest for some time."

"I'll be sure to let her know," I said simply, not wanting to press for more of an explanation in front of Maxon.

I moved on to the next wounded housekeeper, and Maxon followed. We continued in this way for another hour before leaving the Hospital Wing.

"That wasn't quite the date I had in mind," teased Maxon. I had completely forgotten our plans for that night after the excitement of the day. That morning felt weeks away, where I was so excited and relieved that Maxon had finally visited me. My head felt heavy with images of all the wounded. My heart ached between relief that Aspen was okay, my growing affection for Maxon and my resolving confusion between the two.

I laughed. "Rain check?"

"I think I can pencil you in," teased Maxon, although for some reason the statement hurt. Jealousy rumbled in my stomach.

We were at my room, and Maxon wordlessly followed me in. I took in my surroundings quickly. The room had been restored to its previous condition, but several things were missing. Some of my pictures were absent from my mirror, presumably ruined in the attack and had to be thrown away. A new piano had been put in the corner and the entire bed had been changed.

"They're right, you know," Maxon said, closing the door behind us as he moved closer to me. "If I sent you home, hundreds of men would line up to marry you in my place.

"I can't stand the idea of that. Someone else being with you. It makes me feel sick." His arms were on my waist, his mouth only inches away from my mouth. His eyes searched intently in my own. His mouth creased in places, as if he was trying to work out a difficult problem.

"I couldn't stand the way he looked at you," he whispered into my ear, pressing his cheek against mine. He sounded surprisingly bitter.

He turned away. He busied himself smoothing out the new comforter on my bed. I could feel he was waiting for me to say something, but it all felt like too much to process.

"I'm here for you," I said softly, not sure of where the words were coming from. Suddenly, I knew they were true. Aspen would always be my first love, but he didn't have my heart. But after Maxon had almost sent me home a week ago and after being ignored for the past seven days, I realized I wasn't sure he had it either. The past few months had been filled with heartbreaks.

"Would you mind if I took him off your Guard rotation?" questioned Maxon casually, smoothing out a wrinkle in the comforter.

"Of course not," I responded as light-heartedly as I could manage. There was nothing else to say without raising suspicion. Teasingly and with a matching light-hearted tone I reminded him, "It was your idea, anyway. He's just someone from my hometown."

"Does everyone call you that back home?" he questioned conversationally.

"Call me Mer?" I clarified, wincing internally. I had hoped Maxon hadn't noticed Aspen's slip, or would attribute it to drugged slur. "Not really."

This was my chance. This was my moment. To come clean and let him know everything. To put it all out in the open.

Maxon would certainly send me home. He would have Aspen dismissed. Maybe even caned, if I told him the whole truth.

"I just didn't like the way he looked at you," repeated Maxon, by way of explanation.

"We were friends growing up. We used to be close. And he is wounded and so far away from anything familiar," I said cautiously.

Maxon nodded, like it was the most obvious thing. "Just friends."

And then I realized, I had lied for too long. I had dug myself too deep into a hole with my affection for Aspen. I wasn't sure there was ever a way I would be able to tell Maxon everything without losing Maxon completely. I wasn't sure I could live with the guilt.

I told myself as long as I didn't let it ever happen again, maybe it would be okay. It was for the best in the long run. But could I just cut Aspen completely out of my life? What if Maxon chose Kriss in the end, then I'd have no one.

Maxon was oblivious to my inner turmoil and my opportunity to come clean was missed.

"I'm just glad you're here with me, America."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you so much for all your positive reviews! I love hearing what you guys think will happen next. Hope you enjoy the chapter.**

The next morning my maids dressed me in an aquamarine day dress. It gathered neatly around my waist with a silver ribbon. Anne worked diligently on my hair, pulling half of it up into a carefully managed mess of curls, while she allowed the second half of it to frame my face in loose falling spirals. Mary nimbly tied the bracelet Maxon had given me around my wrist.

I smiled at them knowingly. The blue stones complimented my dress perfectly. I thought for a moment of putting Aspen's penny bracelet underneath it, but decided against it.

For a moment, I thought of visiting him, but quickly dismissed the idea. I had no idea what I would say. It also seemed foolishly reckless. It wasn't worth the risk.

I studied my reflection in the mirror, feeling a tad overdressed for breakfast as I stepped into a pair of silver kitty heels I had become accustomed to. I looked at my maids questioningly.

"The French Royals arrived early this morning," stated Mary with a sly smile.

Ever since Maxon had retracted my dismissal, my maids had been doing everything in their power to give me any advantage they could. They were glowing with this opportunity to help. I looked again at my reflection in the mirror and realized I looked the part of a princess.

"It's just the King, Queen, their daughter Daphne and her fiancée," clarified Anne.

I breathed a sigh of relief. At least it wasn't going to be anything like when other royal families had come to visit, with extravagant parties filled with unfamiliar faces. Four new people I could manage.

"Do you know anything about them?" I asked, trying to prepare myself.

"The princess is recently engaged. I heard her fiancée is a very handsome French nobleman. The French usually come to visit briefly when they go to visit their colonies to the north. There are two princes in the famil. And it's a very…affectionate culture," recited Mary, eager to help.

With one final glance in the mirror, I walked down to breakfast. I hesitated for a moment near the Hospital Wing doors but decided against going in.

Kris and Elise were already sitting at the ever-shrinking table that housed the Elite, eating their breakfast.

The Princess sat between Maxon and who I assumed was her fiancée. She was dressed in a beautiful yellow dress, with her dark brown hair down. She looked carefree and friendly. I immediately envied how close she sat next to Maxon. She seemed to take advantage of every available opportunity to touch him and lean close. Their conversation was all whispers.

Her fiancée sat perfectly upright next to her. His attention was focused on Kris and Elise, but he seemed generally uninterested in his surroundings.

Queen Amberly and the Queen of France sat to Maxon's other side, speaking happily to one another. It was immediately evident that the French Queen dominated the conversation.

Both Kings were absent.

Before I sat down in the dining room, I curtsied politely to the gathered royalty.

"Bonjour," I said sweetly, hoping it sounded right. I knew some French due to my classical music training, but I had been out of practice since I had entered the Selection.

Daphne looked me over once but instead of responding, she turned to Maxon with a new fervor in attempt to make quiet conversation. The Queen of France looked absolutely delighted by my efforts and returned my greeting.

Celeste sauntered into the room half way through breakfast, which immediately drew the attention of Daphne's fiancée. I watched uncomfortably as his eyes never left Celeste. Daphne either didn't notice or didn't care. I couldn't tell which.

After breakfast, the Elite assembled in the Woman's room, where the Queen explained our task for the day. We would each be assigned a member of the royal family and charged with the duty of spending time with them until lunch.

"It is an important for a Queen to be a good host when smaller groups come to visit. One must be able to make them feel welcome without being overwhelmed. Personal relationships with our allies are essential to maintaining such alliances. Lady Celeste, you will be hosting King Taillefer. Lady Elise, you will be hosting Frederick de Champagne-Ardenne, who will soon be marrying into the royal family. Lady America, you will be with Queen Mabelle. Lady Kriss, you will be with Princess Daphne."

"What are we even supposed to talk about?" droned Celeste as we gathered ourselves and walked toward the wing where the royal visitors were housed.

"Does Frederick even speak English?" worried Elise.

"Princess Daphne seems wonderful. I'm sure we'll have lots to talk about," gushed Kriss, happy with her assignment.

"Does anyone know anything about French culture?" I chimed in, feeling suddenly nervous.

"Like you even have anything to worry about," snickered Celeste. Celeste laughed and Elise quietly joined in.

Kriss looked at me sympathetically. "Don't listen to them. You're still here."

It suddenly dawned on me. Everyone was counting me out.

"Not for long," sang Celeste, clearly comfortable with the idea that she knew who the final three would be.

I was going to prove them wrong.

Luckily, Queen Mabelle's room was the first on the right. I let the group pass me before knocking, determined not to let them get to me.

The Queen pulled the door open quickly and immediately embraced me, kissing me eagerly on both cheeks. She stepped back and noted my appearance. I smiled hesitantly, unsure of what to do or say.

"Well, come in, chère," she insisted, motioning for me to join her at a table she had already had someone set up for us. It was adorned with tea and chocolate pastries.

"Tell me about yourself," continued Queen Mabelle.

"My name is America Singer," I began, trying to instill confidence into my words. "I come from a large family. I have two sisters and two brothers. I'm a classically trained musician."

"What do you play?"

"Violin and piano, mostly. Singing, too."

"What an endearing accomplishment," praised the Queen. I couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. She radiated an aurora of warmth.

"Et vous parlez français?" asked the Queen, commenting on my small attempt to welcome the royal family earlier that morning.

"Seulement un peu," I told her honestly. My mother always emphasized the importance of knowing what the words we sang meant, rather than just reciting them. It made them sound more authentic, she'd say. I had never been instructed on French grammar or had any vocabulary above what I'd been exposed to in music.

"Tell me about Prince Maxon," insisted Queen Mabelle next, changing the subject easily. "I've known him since he was a toddler, you know. Him and my Daphne have always been the closest of friends."

"He's quite the gentleman. We spend most of our time in the garden, just talking-"

"Do you love him?" interjected the Queen.

My face flushed red. I hesitated.

"Oh! You do!" exclaimed Queen Mabelle enthusiastically, kissing my cheek happily once more. "Oh, ma chère. I told Amberly. I just told her. My feelings are seldom wrong. Have you told him?"

"I don't exactly know that I-"

"Of course you have to tell him," she insisted, mistaking my meaning. "I could just tell from the way you kept looking over this morning. And how he kept trying not to stare at you!"

I was taken aback by her words.

"My feelings are seldom wrong, chère. Tell him! Promise me," she implored.

Was Maxon really watching me at breakfast? I racked my brain for any proof of her assertion. Certainly, I had looked toward him multiple times, but every time he seemed deep in conversation with Daphne or his mother.

The rest of our time together passed quickly. She told me her own love story and how she won her husband's heart. She married into royalty, but, unlike me, had grown up in from a noble family. This seemed to be the French custom, but I feared it would be rude for me to ask her about it. I made a mental note to check in my loaned book when I returned to my room.

We spoke for a while on the obligations of being a Queen. She told me of her average week and detailed the responsibilities she had in France. It made me realize that, aside from some smaller things, I really didn't know what the Queen of Illea was responsible for. I would have to find time to have a similar discussion with Queen Amberly.

When we were saying our good-byes, she insisted that she would be absolutely heartbroken if I didn't marry Prince Maxon. I smiled politely at that, certain that she would have said that to any of the other Elite if that had had the opportunity to speak with her one on one.

Lunch consisted of just the Elite and Queen Amberly. Elise dominated the conversation with her praise of how cultured Frederick was and how much he had traveled. Celeste quietly reiterated how pointless she believed the whole thing was, careful to keep her opinion from reaching Queen Amberly's ears. I chimed in occasionally with polite words about Queen Mabelle, feeling that our discussion had gone well.

Kriss was the first to excuse herself from lunch. I followed shortly after, determined to spend the rest of my day being productive.

When I returned to my room, I opened the book Sylvia had loaned me to a section first to the French and then to the Italians, recalling that the Queen had mentioned that they were coming within the next two weeks.

After reading a few sentences on the Italians, I remembered the small piece of paper the Princess had given to me. I found the number the Italian princess had left me sandwiched in my journal full of notes on royalty obligations and important facts about our allies and enemies. I fingered the piece of paper, trying to commit the number to memory. The princess would be a powerful ally, if I had any way to contact her. Perhaps Maxon would allow me to make the call if I asked, but I feared that would raise too much suspicion.

With the number in mind, I continued on with the section.

Several hours later, I heard crying coming from the hall. After the noise persisted for several minutes, I hesitantly left my desk to find the source. I didn't want to intrude on anyone's personal moment, but the noise seemed to be growing louder at an alarming rate.

I noticed Kriss's door ajar when I stepped into the hallway, and immediately attributed the source to her room. Awkwardly, I stepped forward and knocked on the door, pushing it open slightly with the effort.

The sobbing stopped immediately. A few moments later, Kriss responded, "Yes?"

I stepped into her room slowly, unsure of what to do.

"Are you okay?" I asked softly, trying to sound supportive.

She shook her head as a new round of sobs filled her chest. She got up from her bed and firmly shut the door behind me. She motioned for me to join her on the bed.

"It's just so…so hard," she sobbed.

"What is?"

"The Selection," she responded, making it seem like the most obvious thing in the world. "Every day there is a new challenge and this awful guessing game of who is Prince Maxon going to choose and what do I need to do and say to make him want to be around me and it's just . . . it's just . . . too much!"

I nodded, knowing her anguish but unsure of how to express my own.

"I just want to be with him, America," she sobbed.

"I know how you feel."

We sat in silence until her sobs died down.

"Do you think it will be much longer?" she asked. She quivered slightly, seeming especially fragile.

"Not too much longer," I said, trying to sooth her. My arm instinctively went around her. I rubbed small circles on her back. Inwardly, I hoped it would drag out for a long while. I needed time to prove to Maxon and his father I could behave myself. I also greedily wanted time with Maxon. I didn't want to deal with the heartbreak again so soon.

She nodded. Kriss looked exhausted, but much more relaxed.

"I just don't – I just don't know what to do sometimes, you know? Sometimes I just want to scream at him, make up your mind already. And when he doesn't come to visit at night, I wonder. Well, is he with Elise or is he with Celeste or is he with-with you? It's like some kind of slow motion torture."

"Just be patient," I assured her, trying to calm her. "It will all end soon enough."

She immediately stood from the bed, her eyes focused on me intently. She glared at me for a long moment before continuing.

"Has he told you he loves you?" she demanded.

"Kriss," I responded in a slow, warning tone. We'd already spoken on how I didn't want to disclose my personal moments with Maxon. I greedily wanted to cherish every single one of them as secrets between us.

"Why are you still here, America?" she asked suddenly, her voice wrought with frustration. "I've done everything right and you've done everything so…so…wrong! Why are you still here?"

I sat stunned at her sudden outburst. The whole time I had known Kriss she had never been anything but gentle and kind hearted. I could tell from the look on her face she immediately regretted it.

"For Maxon," I said with a quiet confidence, meeting her gaze.

Kriss rubbed at her eyes. "I'm sorry," she apologized, "it was just a rough day, with Princess Daphne and all. But, thank you, America." She sounded neither apologetic nor grateful.

"Get some rest before dinner," I encouraged her, eager to leave her room.

I hesitated for a moment in the doorframe before leaving. "If you ever need anything, I'm here for you."

As much as I wanted to dislike Kriss and as much as I wanted Maxon's heart to belong solely to me, Kriss was a sweet girl with good intentions. Although the present situation made it incredibly difficult, I did truly want for us to be friends.

When I returned to my room, I felt especially restless. I tried to return to Silvia's book, but I couldn't focus on the words. I reread one paragraph six times before I tried to play the piano, but my unsteady hands made me repeatedly press the wrong keys. It was still an hour before dinner.

I fled my room, trying to find peace in the winding hallways and unique art scattered throughout the castle. My mind couldn't shake what Kriss had said. It did feel like an awful lot to handle. For the first time since I came to the castle, it seemed I actually had to compete for Maxon. The fact that I had to win over Celeste, Elise and Kriss left an unsettled feeling in my core; I was the underdog.

As I neared Maxon's room, I was startled by Princess Daphne rounding the corner, her yellow dress bouncing with each quick step she took. I curtsied out of respect, expecting her to nod in acknowledgement and continue on her way.

"America Singer, yes?" Princess Daphne asked, gazing so intently at me I felt as if she was trying to see through me.

I nodded, affirming her statement with a polite, "Yes."

She stood there for a long moment while I hesitated whether I was supposed to continue on her way or wait for her to say something further.

"Do you love him?" she asked, the question taking me aback for the second time that day. Her tone was one of curiosity, but her intense stare made me uncomfortable. I shifted my weight on my feet and averted my eyes to the ground.

"You should not," she added insistently, grabbing at my wrists in an attempt to make me meet her gaze. "I have known him for a long time, America Singer, and I know what he is and is not capable of. He is not capable of loving you."

I stared at her blankly, taken aback by her words. "No offense, Princess Daphne, but you don't know me."

She waved dismissively at me, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Leave while your heart is still whole. This Prince would not know love if it walked up to him and introduced itself."

"Then I'll show him," I stated, finding a determined edge in my voice.

"À tort se lamente de la mer qui ne s'ennuie d'y retourner," she responded quickly, her voice like a melody. I stared blankly at her, unsure of the majorty of the words that came from her mouth.

She sighed in frustration. "It means…they complain wrongfully at the sea when the ship wrecks twice." She shook her head quickly, annoyance evident. "It does not translate well. I am trying to say, do not expect a different outcome by repeating the same situation."

She stared at me, presumably waiting for some indication that I understood her. I gave her none.

"Do not wait too long, then," she added vaguely before continuing on her way.

Her warning didn't sit well with me. I was unsure of what to make of it.

Realizing it was almost time for dinner, I hurried toward the Dining Hall, leaving my thoughts of Princess Daphne's strange actions in my wake.

Everything seemed to have returned to normal for dinner. Our French visitors had moved onwards in their trip. Kriss, Celeste, Elise and myself sat at a small table in front of the royal family, all of which were present tonight. Kriss seemed to have returned to her normal bubbly self, but I couldn't help but wonder how much of it was simply an act she put on.

As had become my unfortunate custom, throughout dinner I was constantly trying to catch Maxon's attention. In one instance, he tugged his ear so casually and quickly that I doubted whether I actually saw it. I returned the signal eagerly.

Dinner passed slowly and unusually quietly. Every time I tried to catch Maxon's gaze, I found the King staring critically at one of the Elite – and although I frequently caught him staring at me, I found him staring at Celeste, Elise and Kriss equally as much. In contrast, Maxon focused intently on his dinner.

I suddenly felt that another elimination was coming. Kriss had asked how much longer I thought it would be, but I hadn't really given it much thought. Natalie had left over a week ago. I remembered back to before the Selection had begun, a man telling me it could take years, but that the Prince would most likely want to make the decision quickly, in order to reassure Illea of his ability to rule decisively. Certainly, another elimination was coming soon, and then the Selection would be down to three, the number from which Maxon was expected to choose his bride.

A pessimistic thought welled in my brain, focusing on the fact that perhaps Maxon intended to send me home that very night. Maybe he realized that there would be no convincing his father, or that the country would be better off with someone at his side with a more positive public image. I cringed at the thought, and immediately my appetite dwindled.

And it was in that moment, that I decided I was going to make the most of it.


	5. Chapter 5

I sat anxiously in my bedroom, waiting for Maxon to arrive.

I sat in the same dress that my maids had dressed me in that morning. My fingers rotated the smooth fabric between my fingers as I stared at the bracelet Maxon had given me.

I feared he would send me home. The thought put me on edge. Everything had to go perfectly to plan. My maids had spent the hours following dinner assisting me far past their duty in order to give me the best chance I could manage of regaining Prince Maxon's heart and trust.

I had dismissed them at nine and now the clock's hour hand neared the eleven. Had I imagined the signal? Maybe he was just scratching his neck or something.

I walked over to the piano and allowed my mind to wander as my fingers instinctively played a few familiar notes on repeat. Gradually, the notes transformed into a variety of familiar songs. The songs reminded me of home.

My heart ached.

I felt guilty for not visiting Aspen. Logically, I knew that it was safest to not. However, if I was in the Hospital Wing, I knew that he would have visited me as frequently as he could manage. I hadn't even really honestly tried. I didn't even know if the surgery he had mentioned had gone well.

My fingers faltered nervously before they regained the rhythm. I would have to find a way to make sure he was at least all right without raising any suspicion.

_Just friends_, I repeated to myself, matching the words to two notes before allowing my thoughts to move forward. It was going to take more than repetition to convince myself that I no longer had romantic feelings towards Aspen Leger.

Was that so wrong? Could a person love two people at the same time?

My fingers started playing a complicated melody as my overwhelmed mind tried to work the problem out. My heart screamed that it cared more about Maxon, but my brain nagged at me, claiming I took Aspen's affection for granted.

_He's not the one dating four girls at once. He would do anything for you._

Truthfully, I had always assumed he would be there for me. I couldn't imagine Aspen with anyone else, but the idea of Maxon marrying Kriss set fire to my veins.

My fingers hesitated for a moment while my mind tried to make sense of what I was feeling.

"That's quite lovely," mentioned Maxon from behind me.

I jumped, startled by his sudden presence.

"I didn't hear you come in," I apologized. I stood too quickly from the piano stool, almost knocking it over in the process and causing my feet to trip nervously over the stool as it moved.

Maxon smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry it's so late."

"It's fine. You're fine," I responded instantly, the long hours I had waited anxiously suddenly becoming insignificant.

Maxon sat on my bed. His eyes focused on me intently. His small smile had grown. Although neither of us said anything for several moments, the silence was loaded. My mind raced with questions, with fears and with desires. However, Maxon seemed to not be phased. He just sat there, looking quietly content.

I nervously held my breath and took his right hand in both of mine. The touch was electric. I wanted to kiss him.

I didn't want to seem too bold, but I tugged gently on his hand. Maxon read what I was feeling rather than my intentions and quickly closed the distance between us and kissed me.

My stomach fluttered. The kiss felt different. In the past, our kisses had always been passionate but this felt like it was on a completely different level. It wasn't nervous and sweet nor overly physical like when I had seen him with Celeste. It was insistent.

"I have a surprise for you," I said softly. My face lingered close to his as I stared up at him through my eyelids.

"A surprise?" he echoed, keeping his voice low as he brushed his nose against mine. He kissed me again.

My thoughts raced. I had rehearsed in my mind how I thought this would go. All the words I had planned were suddenly absent. Instead, I nodded and pulled him toward my balcony, allowing Maxon to see for himself.

He squeezed my hand gently as he turned toward me. "What is this?"

Again, all the flirtatious words I had planned were gone. "I thought maybe it was my turn to plan something."

It wasn't anything extravagant. My maids had helped me set up a small table on the balcony along with a variety of desserts. Lucy had gone through all the trouble of adorning the balcony with beautiful floral arrangements from the garden. It was modest, but I hoped that Maxon appreciated the gesture.

It was the perfect night for it. The sky was perfectly clear and the stars shone brightly above us. The night was cool, but the late fall wind felt refreshing.

"I love it." Maxon beamed as he repositioned the chairs so that they were immediately next to each other. Through the whole task, he never let go of my hand. He guided me into the chair and pulled me close to him. My head rested lightly between his shoulder and chest. It was slightly uncomfortable with the metal bars separating us and stabbing into my abdomen, but I ignored it in favor of cherishing the moment.

Sweetly, Maxon kissed the top of my head. "Thank you, America."

I felt suddenly overwhelmed. I wanted the moment to never end. I wanted this night alone to never end. We were quiet for a long time, simply enjoying each other's company. Maxon traced circles on my upper arm while I tried to listen for his heart beat.

Eventually, Maxon pulled away from me and met my gaze with a beaming smile. "Father heard about what you did in the Hospital Wing."

My stomach dropped at the mention of King Clarkson. "What do you mean?"

Maxon spoke quickly. "After such a serious attack, there is a certain amount of discontent that is expected. Guards reluctant to return to their duties and some people requesting transfers. That kind of thing," he explained. I nodded, not understanding his point.

"Things had gotten bad, America. With so many attacks since the Selection began. But now, morale is up. The highest it's been since before the Selection," he proclaimed. "According to Mother, it's all the staff have been talking about. Her maids tell her those kind of things, you know."

I tried to process the whole situation. "And your father?"

"He's relieved. He has feared an internal coup for some time. He says it was a _brilliant_ move. Those were his words, America. A brilliant move."

I smiled. As the elation surged through my body, I snuggled closer to him.

"And," he continued, "Queen Mabelle did nothing but gush over you. Even Daphne had a few kind words to say – and given the situation, that takes a lot."

I looked at him quizzingly, unsure of what Daphne or even Queen Mabelle for that matter could have said that was so significant. After all, I had only said a handful of words to the Princess of France.

"It's important, you know, that our allies approve of the future Queen of Illea." Maxon spoke quickly, excitement evident in his voice. "And even the Italians loved Kriss and you. Mother said so herself. And Father might not want to admit it, but the people are behind you after the last Report."

He paused, getting serious for a moment. "Although that was incredibly stupid, what you did. It still seemed to have unified the lower castes."

"I know, Maxon. I wish I could take it back, but-"

He waved me off, allowing his surprisingly good spirits to overcome him again.

"I have to send someone home, America. I expected Father to want it to be you. I've been losing sleep over it, even," he said glibly. "He's okay with it being Elise, though, America. He was angry, of course. He lectured me, but allowed me to make my own decision in the end."

He sobered up considerably. "That's where I was for so long tonight. She took it very well, all things considered."

A huge weight was lifted off my chest. I felt slightly awful about it, but I smiled and pulled Maxon closer to me, hiding my face in his chest. I was bombarded by a wave of emotions; I wanted to smile and cry and laugh and just sleep from the pure exhaustion of the situation all at once.

"Hey," Maxon continued softly, lifting my chin to meet his gaze. "I promised you from the beginning you'd be in the final three."

I shook my head, smiling all the same. "That's not good enough, Maxon."

He kissed me with that same edge as before. His tongue brushed my bottom lip questioningly. I opened my mouth slightly, allowing him to deepen the kiss. The passion behind it made me shiver. Even when we were to be engaged, he had never seemed so determined.

"This seems right, doesn't it?" he asked softly, before kissing me again lightly on the lips. "Like we could spend all our nights under the stars?"

I nodded, speechless.

"Kriss thinks nights like these are romantic. Celeste doesn't see it though. She says it's daunting, all that darkness and vastness that we don't know," Maxon continued, seemingly content to carry the conversation entirely on his own.

I swallowed hard, trying not to let his words phase me too hard. They felt like sharp rocks digging at my insides. I knew I wouldn't win Maxon over with jealousy though. I turned my head away so he couldn't see it in my expression. I rested the back of my head on his shoulder to disguise the defensive move.

His fingers coiled themselves gently in my hair, giving me shivers down my spine. I felt his warm breath on the back of my neck.

He pulled away abruptly. "You must be freezing."

Before I could protest, he guided me back into my room, leaving the untouched dessert table behind us.

In between light kisses as he guided me toward the bed, he said, "I was thinking that you should make some public appearances."

"What do you mean?" I asked, pulling my head back, but allowing him to hold my waist tightly to his own.

He shook his head dismissively, trying to kiss me once more.

I turned my head. "What do you mean, Maxon?"

His lips met my neck, making a careful trail up toward my ear. "Just to play to your advantage. Let people see where you come from, how much you love Illea, just your _passion_, America."

Maxon's voice dropped to a husky whisper. "It's infectious."

I exhaled sharply. Maybe this was my chance to prove to the King that I could be useful, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was just a pawn in some larger scheme. Like I was a thing to be paraded around.

I wasn't sure that I was okay with that.

Maxon read my discomfort at the idea easily. "It's a good thing, America," he said softly, stepping back to look at my face more clearly.

I nodded and faked a smile for his benefit. "If you think it's a good idea, I would love to." The words tasted bitter in my mouth. "I trust you, Maxon."

"It won't be so awful," Maxon promised, rubbing my arm encouragingly. "We'll make a whole thing of it. I can go visit each of the final three's home county, and we can broadcast the whole thing. You'll be wonderful. Besides, Kriss has been pleading with me to go see Columbia with her. She claims it's beautiful in the winter."

The moment turned sour. I forced a smile. Maxon seemed not to notice. A nagging voice in my head told me he was doing it on purpose.

"She has a dog back home. A dog. As a pet. She says she's had him since he was a little puppy, and she hid him from her parents for a whole month before they found out. Kriss just couldn't bare to leave him on the streets," Maxon rambled, ignoring my discomfort.

"She has a good heart," I said honestly, not wanting to come off as bitter as I felt.

Maxon paused and looked at me hard. His gaze made me feel suddenly uncomfortable.

"You have a good heart too, America," he said reassuringly. "You're passion would make you a great Queen."

I smiled at the compliment. Maxon's faith in me never ceased to astound me.

"She's just more steady, America. It's not like this with her, but I know that she would never betray me. She's sensible. She thinks things through. She cares about me. It makes me feel…good. She would always be there for me."

As much as I didn't want it to, his words hit a resounding truthful note. Kriss was his Aspen.

"I'm still you're friend in all of this, even if I may be extremely biased," I stated slowly, trying to keep my voice even. "I'm here if you need to talk."

"As a friend. How am I supposed to choose? How do I weigh politics with the public with my father with appearances with personality with skill sets with…everything?"

"You're supposed to choose who you love," I said instantly, laughing quietly at how mathematical he made it sound. He smiled bashfully. "Nothing else really matters in the end, Maxon."

"But – how do you know? I mean, how do you know when you love someone?" asked Maxon quietly, much like a young child would.

"It's a person you never want to be without. A person who is constantly on your mind. Someone who you want to share everything with. Someone who understands you without even trying. It's the person who makes you feel like you can do anything in the entire world, no matter how impossible."

And at the most inopportune moment, my heart reached a sudden realization.

I loved Maxon Schreave.

"It's the person you would do anything for, even if it means losing them."


	6. Chapter 6

The royal family was absent from breakfast, leaving just Celeste and Kriss to keep me company.

Celeste was the first to point out Elise's absence.

"Maybe she's just not feeling well this morning," dismissed Kriss immediately. Her lips pursed. "Or maybe she's having breakfast with Maxon. Maxon never mentioned sending anyone home."

I shook my head slightly toward Kriss. It surprised me that they didn't know yet. Rumors usually spread like wildfire in the palace.

"So…It's just the three of us?" gawked Kriss. "How do you know?"

"Maxon told me," I responded casually, not feeling a pressing need to lie. Kriss bit her bottom lip and looked at me hard, her gaze not wavering from my own.

"Just the three of us, then," she said with a smile. "Poor Elise, though, she was such a sweet girl."

Celeste scoffed. "I'm sure she's already in New Asia by now. Her family has been writing to her about marriage proposals from over there for weeks. She knew she'd marry into nobility one way or another. Some people have it easy."

This seemed to light a fire under Kriss. "But to lose Prince Maxon-"

"You can't lose something you don't have," interjected Celeste. "And not even you have Prince Maxon. Besides, you don't see him weeping over her leaving. Why should she?"

"I'm sure this is all very hard for him," defended Kriss passionately.

"Hard for him?" echoed Celeste, obviously enjoying how much she was getting under Kriss' skin. "He's the one in control of all this. He can do whatever he wants. We're the puppets, and he pulls the strings."

"That's not true," I interjected, feeling the need to say something. "You can always leave if you want."

And suddenly I realized the lie in those words. I had asked to be sent home, and Maxon had refused. It wasn't as simple as Celeste made it seem; Maxon was not in complete control of this entire process, but the three of us sitting at the table were very much small pawns in the whole event.

"You're missing the point," Celeste responded dismissively. "All I'm saying is don't waste your time thinking Elise is somewhere heartbroken. She's smarter than that. I guarantee she'll be married within the month."

"No," snapped Kriss, "you're missing the point. You shouldn't even be here, Celeste."

"But I am," responded Celeste sweetly. I watched as Kriss angrily gathered herself to leave. "So what does that say about your Prince Maxon?"

Kriss hesitated at the door. "He doesn't know who you really are. But I'll tell him. I'm going to tell him all about you, Celeste, and how absolutely awful you are to absolutely everyone."

With Kriss gone, Celeste set her gaze on me. "You know better."

And I did. Maxon wasn't the perfect person that Kriss idolized. Sometimes I doubted that I knew the real Maxon, in all his faces and all his sides.

"You shouldn't torment her like that," I responded instead.

"I wasn't trying to torment her. She just needs to wrap her head around this whole situation. She's miserable here, and she's attributing it to us. We're not the problem, America."

"This is a difficult situation to be in." I studied Celeste's face, trying to discern whatever game she was playing at.

"Because being Queen is such an easy one to be in."

We finished the rest of our breakfast in silence.

I waited for Celeste to leave first. My intention was to find Queen Amberly that morning, and I didn't want Celeste to follow. It was selfish in many ways, but this was a competition, after all, and I didn't want Celeste to gain any advantage over me. Especially because it was Celeste.

I headed toward the Woman's Room. To my surprise, Queen Amberly was there. However, she was not alone.

The Italian Princess sat with Queen Amberly, enjoying a quiet breakfast with just the two of them.

I curtsied politely at the pair, apologizing for interrupting. As I went to excuse myself, the Italian Princess interrupted me.

"Please stay," she urged. Queen Amberly motioned for one of the maids to bring another chair to the table.

"I didn't mean to interrupt - "

"Nonsense," insisted Queen Amberly.

"We were just talking about you," added the Princess, making room for me for them at the table.

"About the whole Selection, really," corrected the Queen politely.

"None of us can wait for the engagement," gushed the Princess. "My brother says it is the most important thing for our two countries in centuries."

I smiled politely, unsure of what she was trying to say.

"He wishes he could have come," added the Princess apologetically, directed mainly toward the Queen. "He doesn't enjoy traveling as much as I do, but he was very disappointed that he was unable to come and speak with King Clarkson after what a great time we had last month."

"We understand, Maria," returned Queen Amberly with a knowing smile. "I'm sure you're father keeps him busy."

"So, who is it going to be?" pressed the Princess, leaning in close to me.

I fumbled, entirely unsure of what to say. Queen Amberly promptly came to my rescue.

"I don't even think my son knows at this point," she responded dismissively. "What about you, Maria? Any engagements in your future?"

Princess Maria sighed heavily. "Father says it would be improper for me to marry before my eldest brother, and he is more focused on learning to rule than finding love."

I focused intently on the Princess. The image she portrayed was one of maturity. From the way she spoke, I could tell that she was intelligent and well versed in politics, as would be expected when one grows up in a royal family. It surprised me to realize that she was most likely around my age, give or take a year or two. Yet, she maneuvered all of this so easily. It made me respect and envy her.

A maid appeared and placed on a piece of paper in front of Princess Maria. The maid curtisied and walked away. Queen Amberly and myself remained silent as we allowed Maria to read the note to herself.

Maria smiled and looked toward both of us. "I must excuse myself. Thank you for such a lovely breakfast, Queen Amberly. And, Lady America, I would love to be able to have tea with you later this afternoon."

"I look forward to it," I responded politely, glad to be able to talk to Princess Maria more. I needed her help, but I wasn't sure what she could do for me or how to ask.

"If you need anything, let me know," encouraged Queen Amberly as Maria exited the Woman's Room.

"Did you need something, America?" Queen Amberly looked at me warmly. She seemed more at ease after Princess Maria had left.

I nodded. "When I spoke with Queen Mabelle, she told me of all her responsibilities as the Queen of France. I realized that I only have a very vague picture of just what the Queen of Illea of responsible for."

Queen Amberly smiled as she checked a clock on the wall. "I'm afraid I don't have enough time to get into all of that right now. But perhaps we could have lunch in the garden tomorrow together and discuss it?"

I nodded eagerly.

The Queen chuckled at my enthusiasm. "Seems you keep quite the busy calendar, Lady America."

After excusing herself, Queen Amberly exited the room in a hurry, with two maids following closely at her side. They spoke to her in hushed tones.

I gathered myself, thinking of how busy the royal family had seemed of late. Within the last week, Sylvia had seemed to disappear from the lives of the Elite and our interactions with the royal family had become sparser. I wondered absently on what that meant.

I found myself in front of the Hospital Wing doors. I hesitated with my hand on the doorknob. I lost my nerve and fled for the stairs.

What was I going to do about Aspen?

Guilt coursed through my body. It made me feel sick to my stomach. But I couldn't face it right now. Not with my recent realizations about Maxon.

What was I going to do about Maxon?

I closed the door firmly behind me and dropped into the chair by my desk. My heart ached without the familiar photos adorning my mirror. Even if they had been ruined in the rebel attack, I silently wished that they hadn't just been thrown away without me being asked. I felt disconnected without any tokens from my family.

Everything just felt confusing.

My eyes caught a note with my name on the cover in all too familiar writing. My stomach jumped.

**Tugging my ear. Tonight in the garden?**

I giggled, elated that I would be able to see Maxon again one on one. With the anticipation of all my future in mind, I crawled into my bed for a mid day nap. Everything seemed to be falling into place.

As I drifted into unconsciousness, I envisioned opening up to Maxon and him admitting to also loving me. I imagined an end to the Selection. I imagined King Clarkson finally approving of me and Queen Amberly welcoming me into her family as the daughter she never had. I imagined everything working out exactly how it was supposed to.

I woke from my nap completely disoriented. For a moment I had no idea what time it was or where I was.

Someone carried me in their arms, with my chest draped over their shoulder. He carried me from my room. As soon as I realized what was going on, I started screaming and thrashing.

My captor was unphased. He continued sprinting at a rapid pace. To each side was another man, neither of which did I recognize. I heard gunshots. The siren followed.

The sudden noise encouraged my efforts. I began to scream. Everything felt blurred and like it was happening on fast forward. My vision would not come into focus.

I pulled my right leg from my captors grasp and managed to knee him in the face as I twisted my hips in an attempt to escape. He cried out and dropped me. My side ached when it made contact with the floor. I scrambled to stand.

I stumbled, trying to force my feet under me amid my disorientation. I recognized the portraits as those that hung in an unoccupied wing of the palace. It was meant for large groups of Royal guests, but hadn't been filled since when the Italians and Germans visited.

I managed to take two crooked steps before one of the rebels tackled me to the ground. My hands were too slow reacting to break my fall. My body wasn't working right.

I threw my right elbow back with as much force as I could muster, as I twisted my body onto my left side. I felt it make contact. The man behind me recoiled, his hand on his face. I stumbled toward my feet again, trying to make them run.

"Help!" I screamed again.

The other two rebels were immediately on me, and forced me to the ground. My shoulder ached from the force they used. I kicked at them, but they nimbly avoided my legs.

Moment later, a strange smelling fabric was being pressed on my face. It was followed by darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

The room was dark. There were no windows. The floor was dirt and the walls were some kind of stone. It was cold.

My hands shook as I felt myself over, searching for any apparent injuries. Panic coursed through my body. My fingers resisted functioning due to the cold. My left cheekbone ached. I touched it gingerly, causing it to course with pain. I winced. I tried to imagine what the right side of my ribcage looked like. I imagined it to be a dark purple color. I couldn't be certain, but I reassured myself that it wasn't broken.

I tried to be grateful that I was still in one piece.

My eyes couldn't adjust to the darkness. I resisted the urge to cry as I blindly situated myself in a corner. The freezing stone encouraged my shivering, but the two walls made me feel safe.

I tried to gauge how long I had been unconscious for. I felt weak, as if I had gone without several meals, but I had no desire to eat. I dwelled on that fact and tried to convince myself that it probably had only been a few hours. Rescue would be prompt.

I was haunted by the idea that it wouldn't come.

I pulled at the fabric of my day dress, cursing at the same soft, silken fabric I had praised when my maids had dressed me. It offered no insulation from the cold. I slowly pulled my legs into my chest while my muscles resisted every motion.

I rested my forehead on my knees, wrapping my arms around my shins. I closed my eyes and focused on what Maxon was doing right at this moment. I fabricated an elaborate story, imagining him storming the castle after the attack. I imagined him realizing I was missing and him taking charge of organizing soldiers and guards in a full force search for me. He would cleverly find some trail in the forest that the rebels had unknowingly left behind. Any minute some door in this dark room would be forced open, and he would gather me in his arms. He would find me, and I had to stay strong for that moment.

I replayed the story in my mind on repeat and allowed myself to drift in and out of consciousness.

The sliding of the heavy stone door startled me from my sleep. I cringed at the dim light that hesitantly filled my cell. My surroundings were as somber as I imagined them: four walls all of stone with a small door on the other side of the cell. The floor was uneven. Comfort or cleanliness was not a consideration.

A small girl stood awkwardly in front of the door. She looked about twelve. Her hair unevenly fell in knots around head. It was evident it had been carelessly cut in a boy's fashion. She had long pants on that were filled with holes where the fabric had been worn through. She had a heavy sweater on, but the sleeves stopped three inches too short of her wrists. She looked as if she had been kept in a dirt cell of her own.

The girl looked as if she was poised to flee, like I was some caged lioness that would pounce on her if she moved too suddenly. She avoided my gaze, as if it would provoke me to violence. I couldn't tell if she was shivering from nerves or the cold. Slowly, she lowered a plate to the floor, just barely inside the cell.

"Please," I managed to choke out. I tried to keep my voice even and soft but it sounded as rough as sandpaper. "Can you bring me a blanket or something?"

The door shut quickly, and I was flooded with darkness once more.

Cautiously, I climbed to my feet. My right ankle surged with a new course of pain, but it would support my weight. With the help of the wall, I made my way over to the plate of food. I felt light headed immediately and unsteady on my feet. With the plate in my grasp, I settled into the corner closer to the door, glad to know where it was.

The girl had delivered me a small piece of hard bread. I ate it gratefully. Beside it was a small piece of some overripe fruit. I bit into it hungrily; the too sweet juices made me cringe. The palace life had spoiled me. Nonetheless, I finished the meal.

Time passed. I slept a lot and tried to ease my body back into normalcy. The girl returned infrequently with small meals. It was generally limited to stale bread. Occasionally, she would bring some water in a large wooden bowl. At first, I tried to conserve it, but I quickly realized that the bowls leaked constantly at a slow pace. I drank it thirstily, although it always left me feeling more dehydrated than before.

I woke to a feeling of being watched. Over time, my eyes had adjusted to my dark square, and I quickly searched for the source of my discomfort.

Directly across from me was another person, studying me intently. My body stiffened instinctively.

We both sat still for a long time. I tried to discern whether the person was asleep or conscious to no avail. The sudden presence put me on edge.

I shifted my weight carefully, reaching for the nearby plate the young girl had delivered my latest meal on. I was uncertain whether it had been hours or days ago. My muscles stilled ached in protest, but not nearly as badly as they had when I first found myself in the cell. I guessed that it had been several days since I was kidnapped, but I had no way to tell for certain.

"Lady America?" a feminine voice asked softly.

"Who are you?" I defensively shot back. "How do you know who I am?"

"I was a cook in the Palace," she said slowly as she stood and approached me. I scrambled to get my feet under me, but my ribcage still resisted sudden movements. I managed to scoot farther into my corner, my hands gripping at the rough wood of the plate as if it would offer me some protection.

"Why are you here?" I demanded.

"They took me when they took you." She paused in the middle of the cell, reading my discomfort at the situation. Her voice was soft and sympathetic. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," I lied. I tried to discern her features, but the darkness made it difficult. I tried to place her amongst the hundreds of palace staff, but I couldn't find a name for her face.

"Prince Maxon is probably worried sick about you," she said, obviously trying to comfort me as she closed the distance between us. She motioned to my face. "How painful is it?"

My left hand went to my cheekbone, feeling the swollen tissue beneath it. "It's not so bad."

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"Just some bruises. I'm fine." My ribcage protested the lie with every breath, and I knew that my ankle would give me away if I stood to walk.

"My name is Susie," she said, sitting a few feet away from me. I welcomed the silence that followed, trying to make sense of the whole situation.

Since I had been put in this cell, everything put on edge. Whenever the girl with food came, she treated me like a caged animal. I was beginning to feel like one.

I wondered if Maxon would ever find me. I wondered what was stopping him. Maybe he had simply given up hope, or what if he had been seriously injured in the attack. What if the rebels had taken him captive too?

My thoughts made me restless, but I had nothing else to do but think.

I knew night had come from the dramatic drop in the temperature. My nightly shivers set in, as I pulled my body into the smallest ball I could manage. From my left, I could feel Susie's eyes on me.

She moved closer to me until our skin touched. I welcomed the warm sensation and instinctively moved closer to her. We made it through the night as two human balls positioned closely to one another.

The next morning, Susie was very insistent to talk.

"Everyone hopes it's you," she praised, in reference to whom Maxon would become engaged to. All the chatter about the engagement made me bitter and pessimistic. I was beginning to give up hope and hearing about the Selection made me feel hostile.

"Thank you," I responded, biting my tongue and forcing myself to be polite.

"Everyone says that he confides the most in you," pressed Susie. "That you're his favorite."

I shrugged. If I was so much his favorite, why hadn't he found me yet? Why did I feel so completely abandoned in some tiny dark cell? Was he even looking for me, or had he already given up hope and decided to marry Kris or Celeste?

"I bet you know more about the Palace and Prince Maxon than any of the other Elite. He's just got to pick you."

I forced a smile, but I was certain it looked more like a grimace.

"Mary has never said an unkind word about you," insisted Susie.

"Can we just…not talk for a while?" I demanded. She was grating on my nerves. I turned away, intent on fighting off the feelings of abandonment with sleep.

When I woke up, Susie was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you guys for all your support and reviews! I love hearing what you like and what you expect to happen. :) Hope you enjoy the chapter!**

I was jostled from my sleep by two unfamiliar figures.

Both towered over me. They were dressed in similar clothes. In the darkness, they were virtually indistinguishable. Even through their thick jackets, their muscles were readily apparent. Their stench immediately filled the small cell.

"Up," barked the one closest to me. His voice was surprisingly young; I imagined he was close to Kota's age. The second rebel stayed back, blocking the door.

When I didn't move quickly enough for his liking, he grabbed at my arm to pull me to my feet. I immediately recoiled as his hand roughly grazed my bruised ribcage. I pushed him away, falling back on the corner for support.

He read the move as resistance. Wordlessly, he grabbed at my sides, pulling me from my feet in an attempt to carry me to the new destination.

The surge of pain blinded me. I let out a wordless yelp as I began to thrash with defensive adrenaline. My foot made contact with his knee, causing him to drop me haphazardly to the floor as he stumbled backwards.

He cursed as he rubbed at his joint, but the contact made him falter for only a brief moment before he was grabbing at me again. He spun me toward the wall, pressing my injured cheek into the stone. He easily restrained my arms behind my back.

He lowered his face to my own. "Now. You're going to behave, won't you?"

I spat at him, feeling I had nothing to lose. At least in this dark cell I knew I was safe. What awaited me outside, I had no idea. From all the time I had spent in here, I knew one thing for certain: they wouldn't break my spirit that easily.

He pulled me back a few inches by my wrists before pushing me back into the wall. My chest took the blunt of the force, but as my head snapped back into place the side of my face collided with the cold stone. I exhaled sharply, letting out a cry of pain as tears filled my eyes. I felt the already injured flesh swell.

"Walk," he commanded, feeling as if he had gotten the better of me. He pushed me forward toward the second rebel, but my legs crumbled beneath me.

"Get up," he insisted, prodding me forcibly with his foot.

"Stop. She's hurt." The voice came from the second rebel, noting my reaction from the door. "You'll come with us, won't you, sweetie?" he coaxed as he stepped forward, easily slipping my arm over his shoulder and gently pulling me to my feet.

"See? No trouble," he mentioned gloatingly to his comrade as I took a step forward, steadied by his help.

The first rebel grumbled as he stepped forward to my side, not giving me an opportunity to react. He grabbed at my arm, preventing me from fleeing – as if I had the energy or the knowledge to do so.

The pair guided me slowly down a series of winding halls. Gratefully, the pace was slow and dictated by the kinder of the two rebels. They offered no further words as they deposited me unceremoniously into a chair in a room as equally as small as my cell and left.

In front of me was a square table, with chairs located on each side. The room was lit by one dim lighting fixture in the ceiling. The rest of the room was bare with the same undecorated stone walls.

A few minutes passed and another man entered the room. Despite my frantic appearance, he greeted me with a slight smile.

"Miss America," he said cordially, as he extended his hand in greeting and settled into a chair directly across from me, setting a bag on the floor. I shook it slowly, noting the two rebels who had escorted me lingering by the open door.

The new man followed my gaze. "You can go," he said dismissively to the two men. His gaze returned to me. "Can one of you bring us some water and a bag of ice?"

We sat in silence studying one another until one of the men returned with a pitcher of water, two cups and a small bag of ice. He put all of the items just out of my reach and left.

The man sitting across from me filled both cups with water and placed the pitcher between us. He passed the bag of ice toward me, motioning for me to take it.

I gulped the water thirstily before helping myself to a second cup. After promptly finishing the second, I stalled halfway through the third. My stomach grumbled at the excess. Carefully, I placed the bag of ice on my cheek. The man watched me the whole time intently.

"You've got quite the shiner," he said conversationally, watching me carefully press the cold ice against my cheek. I grimaced at the thought of what I must look like. I glanced at my dress; the previously light blue fabric was brown and tattered along the edges. The top layer was riddled with holes and the entire dress was covered in dirt.

I stared at him blankly, unsure of how to respond. I bit at my bottom lip, tasting the dried blood on it from lack of water since I had been brought there. I tried not to appear as nervous and uneasy as I felt.

"I guess you're name suits you, huh? You're quite the fighter, I hear."

My eyes stayed fixed on him. "Who are you?"

"How rude of me. My name's Jason." His tone was light and carefree. I noted a slight lilt in his accent, but I couldn't place it. He was older than my two escorts, but not by much. In another situation, he struck me as a person I would like.

"Are you the Northern or the Southern rebels?"

He chuckled. "Both? We lead both sects from this camp."

"What do you want from me?" I demanded, wary of his overly pleasant demeanor. I tried to process what he was telling me as quickly as possible.

"To be allies," he responded promptly, not bothered by my directness.

I refused to give him the satisfaction of a large reaction. The answer seemed absurd to me.

"You have a funny way of treating your allies," I countered.

"You weren't supposed to be harmed," he stated apologetically. He seemed to mean it.

"And I suppose keeping me in a dark cell was just your way of welcoming me?" I added, playing at his guilt, whether it was pretended or real.

"We were waiting."

"For what?" I pressed, trying to glean as much as I could about my situation without seeming too eager.

"To see what the Palace would do." His face was stoic.

"And?" I urged. I feared I was playing right into his hand, but I had to know. I had to know what Maxon was doing to try to get me out of this place. I had to hear it.

"Nothing. They're doing nothing, America."

My stomach dropped. Surely, that was impossible. Maxon would never just have left me to rot in a Rebel camp, no matter what the risk. Perhaps his father had delayed things, but Maxon wouldn't have just given up on me.

"I don't believe you," I said matter-of-factly, trying not to let my feelings of defeat show. I clung to the hope that he was lying. He had to be lying.

"I wouldn't expect you to."

Jason fumbled with his bag for a moment and pulled a small stack of magazines and newspaper clippings. He set them in front of me. I recognized them immediately. The magazines were just like the ones Celeste was always fawning over at the Palace. The newspaper looked like the inexpensive Illea regulated ones we bought back home.

I grabbed at the magazine, my eyes immediately drawn to the collage of pictures of Maxon and Celeste. The headlines lead me to believe they were in her hometown. They were dining and walking around and looking generally happy to be together.

I promptly snatched the second magazine, which was formatted in much the same way, only with Kriss in lieu of Celeste. My stomach twisted in knots as I forced myself to look at pictures of Kriss and Maxon with her family, the couple posing with Kriss's dog and one posed picture where Maxon was kissing Kriss on the cheek.

It was difficult to breath. The room suddenly felt hot.

The newspaper clipping was small and felt flimsy in my hands. My sweating palms immediately soaked the paper, but I could still manage to read the painful words: America Singer Still Dangerously Ill – Palace doctors hope for a miracle.

I took a steadying breath, neatly arranging the papers in front of me. I casually turned the pages with pictures of Kriss and Celeste with Maxon over. Maxon's happy face made me feel sick to my stomach.

"How long have I been here?" I finally asked, once I had gathered my composure.

"A little less than a week," Jason informed me, a sympathetic edge to his voice.

I nodded slightly, trying to make sense of the situation. I wanted to cry. I wanted to crawl back to my tiny cell and return to my daydreams of Maxon coming to my rescue. I wanted to scream at him for looking so happy in those pictures.

Instead, I pulled myself together and put on a brave face for the stranger in front of me. I refused to allow him to believe he had gotten the best of me. I would be strong.

"This doesn't change anything," I lied. No matter how angry I was at Maxon, at the palace, at the whole country, I wouldn't be a traitor. "I'm not going to help you, so you might as well send me back to my cell."

"I can't make you talk, but I can make you listen," Jason responded diplomatically, his tone remaining even and unbothered by my uncooperative attitude.

"Honestly, America, I need your help. Illea needs your help," he implored. "Though you may believe they have the best of intentions, the Royals are going to destroy our country. People are starving. We are stagnant. Soon, some superpower will come and conquer us and everything we have worked for the past decades will be in vain."

I took a sip of water, feigning disinterest. However, true to his word, I was listening.

"We've tried to be patient. We were founded on the ideals of enlightening the people of our country with the truth– not the fabricated stories that have been passed down. We bring knowledge to the people. We've tried to bring the royal line to an end in subtler, more peaceful ways and allow the natural evolution of our government. We are not violent by nature, but some of my people have grown overly impatient. I fear-"

"Subtle as in murdering the royal family?" I accused, scoffing at his explanation.

Jason shook his head. "I fear that my people will do something that everyone will come to regret – such as murder the royal family. Can you imagine the chaos that would cause?"

I remembered back to what Maxon had said to me after I televised my proposal to rid the country of the caste system. Changes must be gradual in order for them to be successful.

"For several generations we have tried to end the royal line by treating the royal family with high doses of mugwart in their drinking water – it's an herb that causes miscarriages. If there was no heir to the throne, then we would have a plausible chance to change the country for the benefit of the people."

I remembered back to what Queen Amberly's sister had told me: how Queen Amberly had had a series of miscarriages before and after Maxon was born while she had been blessed with six children herself. There seemed to be some plausibility to his story.

"But now my people grow restless – they don't want to wait for the Prince to choose a bride and hope for a plan that has failed for generations to finally come to fruition," he explained.

"What does this have to do with me?"

"I belive the Southern and Northern sects would rally behind you. After your proposal on the Report, the Southern supporters believe that you would lead the government in the direction they want to see it take. The Northerners believe that because you come from a lower caste, you would institute changes for the best of the entire country. You can unite all my people." As he spoke, his words gradually increased in pace as he became me excited at the prospect.

I shook my head stubbornly. "I'm not helping you."

Jason's eyebrows furrowed. "Do you not believe the country needs to be changed?"

"I don't trust you," I responded simply.

He sighed heavily and reached into his bag once more. In front of me, he laid out the series of photographs that had once adorned my mirror in the Palace. They were pictures of my home, of my family, of May and me.

"You will help us," he said seriously. My mind flashed to what the rebels had done to Natalie's little sister, despite her being guarded. The gravity of what Jason was saying hit me harder than the magazines.

"What do you want me to do?" I questioned unsteadily, trying not to yield too eagerly. We both knew that with my family being threatened, I was putty in his hands.

"Marry Prince Maxon and make the changes you know are best for Illea," responded Jason, his tone immediately returning to pleasant. He made it sound so simple.

"I can't control what…" My voice trailed off as the rebel leader tapped at the picture of May and I.

"You'll figure something out, America," he said confidently.

I sighed heavily, the panic beginning to set in. Jason stood from the table and gathered his bag.

"And America?"

"Yes?" My voice was shaky at the knowledge I had gained and the anticipation of what I had to accomplish.

"Keep in touch."

Jason was swiftly behind me, pressing a cloth to my face. Everything faded to black.


	9. Chapter 9

Everything was blurry as I felt myself being carried. I was hit with sudden warmth. I tried to resist, but the fogginess of my surroundings was confusing. When I felt the gentle embrace of a mattress, I relaxed, easing back into unconsciousness.

I woke abruptly, sitting up in the unfamiliar bed. Slowly, I managed to realize I had been placed in a secluded bed in the Hospital Wing. Hurriedly, I swung my feet off the side of the bed.

I stumbled, forgetting momentarily about my injured ankle. I managed to steady myself and pulled down the closed white curtains in the process. Someone had changed me from my ragged blue dress into a light silk white gown, reminiscent of a hospital gown. Slowly, I made my way to the door. I had an intrinsic and powerful desire to be in my own room, in my own bed.

A nurse rushed to my side, trying to encourage me to return to my cot. I refused, pressing forward. With the help of the walls and the bobbing nurse, constantly fussing and telling me I was being reckless, I managed to make it up the stairs and to the safety of my familiar room.

I curled into my bed, wrapping the comforter around my shoulders and clutching it in my hands at my chest. Tears flooded my eyes, but I wasn't exactly sure why. I was filled with a sense of relief and anxiety as I drifted back into unconsciousness.

When I woke, I was immediately met with the sight of Anne sitting in the corner of my room, sewing diligently. I stirred slightly, and her eyes were immediately on me.

"America?" She rushed to the bed, her face immediately next to mine. I forced a smile.

"Hi," I said feebly.

"She's up!" she exclaimed. I could sense other people rushing into the room, but I wisely chose to stay in the position I was currently in. I could feel that the Hospital Wing had bandaged my ribcage with some restrictive material while I was unconscious, but it still ached when I breathed too deeply.

A hand cautiously touched my shoulder. Lucy and Mary appeared in my field of vision. The sight of them comforted me.

"Prince Maxon's orders- the moment you woke up, he was to be called," Mary said softly, as if speaking too loudly would send me into a whirlwind of pain. While she spoke, she pushed a series of buttons. She awkwardly held the phone to my ear, obviously unsure of how to proceed.

I took the phone from her, trying to reassure them that I wasn't as injured as I appeared. The idea of speaking with Maxon filled me with a flurry of agitation. He had left me to rot in some dirt cell. I wanted to scream and demand explanations.

The phone clicked. "America?" came the familiar voice from the other end of the line.

"Maxon," I breathed softly, my anger dissipating instantly.

"Oh, America." He sounded relieved. He laughed. I could imagine the smile on his face. "She's awake," I heard him direct to someone else.

"We'll be back tomorrow. Father says it would be improper to cut the trip any shorter than that. Tomorrow morning, even. Definitely no later than lunch. I promise, America." He spoke quickly, his words stumbling over one another.

There was a silence; I was unsure of how to respond. I wanted an explanation from him. I wanted him to be there when I woke up from the Hospital Wing bed. I wanted him here now to comfort me. I didn't want to settle for tomorrow, but it was out of my hands.

"America?"

"Yes, Maxon?" I asked calmly.

"I'm so glad you're okay. I am just so…glad."

"Me too, Maxon," I responded with a lingering edge of hostility.

"Do you want to speak with her?" he asked the person with him. He added somewhat awkwardly to me, "Kriss is glad too.

"This line isn't secure. I have to go. But, we're so glad you're all right, America. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

The phone clicked off before I could manage a response.

"Can I just…have some time alone?" I asked quickly, handing the phone back to Mary.

"The Doctor says you should have someone with you in-" stated Anne.

"Please," I urged my maids, desperation leaking into my voice. My hands shook as I pulled the comforter up to my ears, trying to disappear under its vastness.

I must have looked like a painful mess, because they took pity on me. Mary offered a compromise.

"I'll stay outside your door and check on you every now and then. If you need anything, you can call for me."

I eagerly accepted their terms. Once they had exited my room, I allowed the tears to flood my eyes once more. The top of the comforter quickly became damp. I allowed the overwhelming feeling to carry me back into a restless sleep.

My nightmares haunted me.

I woke to the warm smell of all my favorite foods laid out on a small table by my bedside. The scents they gave off were enough to make my mouth water, but my stomach was still in knots. I forced myself to have a few bites of a creamy chicken noodle soup, but it was all I could manage despite the platter of all my favorite desserts.

For the rest of the day, my room was a constant parade of visitors.

"Glad to see you're back," commented Celeste, lingering in the doorway. She was the first to brave my presence, aside from my maids. It surprised me that she even bothered. "You look awful."

I had yet to see myself, but the condition of my black eye was the least of my concerns. I shrugged slightly, not letting her comment bother me in the slightest.

"I guess it could be worse, though, huh." She stayed in the doorway.

"Yeah," I said slowly, dragging out my vowels.

"Well, I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about," she commented glibly. "Kriss has been absolutely unbearable this last week, you know. All tears, all the time. I think I'd rather have been locked away somewhere than have to have put up with that."

I forced a smile for her benefit. She shrugged and walked off.

In her wake came a flow of people that I had only ever met in passing. The majority of them I had never been introduced to, but had seen around the Palace during my stay here. I got the feeling that most came to gawk at what I could imagine was the focus of all the latest rumors, but many expressed their concerns for my safety.

Among my visitors were Officer Fisherman and the guard with the injured arm. Both had seemed to have made full recoveries, although the guard still had a white bandage wrapped tightly around his arm. They were not as light-hearted as the last time we had spoken and remained much more formal. I appreciated the gesture.

In a brief pause in the visitors, I saw a small note tucked away on my bedside table.

**You had me worried sick. Consider us even. – MT**

I grinned at the familiar girly handwriting. I wasn't sure how Marlee had managed it, but I was grateful she had been able to reach out to me. I really needed a friend.

"Sorry it took so long for me to stop by," apologized a familiar voice.

I quickly shoved the note under my pillow, disguising the move as an attempt to fluff it and make myself more comfortable.

"Kota? What are you doing here?"

He made no hesitation in making himself at home. He pulled up a chair to the side of my bed and plopped down. He had a sketchbook in his lap.

"I helped with the search for you," he said proudly, as if I should be grateful for him for single-handedly saving my life. He opened the sketchbook, passing it to me.

It was filled with sketches of me, from different profiles. Admittedly, he was especially gifted. The pages were filled with images of me.

"Mom and Dad didn't have any good pictures of you - for identification purposes. So I made them."

His words resonated in my ears. For the past week, my parents must have been worried sick, convinced that the only way they'd ever see their daughter again was 'for identification purposes.'

"Do they know yet?" I demanded. I wished they were here now.

Kota shrugged, as if it was insignificant. "King Clarkson had the whole family come to the Palace the same day as the attack. The Prince insisted on it, but they had to agree to not say anything to the reporters about it. As far as the country is concerned, you're just really sick. They went home, but I decided to stay to help. The King has a tight control on this whole situation – no one is even supposed to talk about it. If word leaked out, he said it'd be treason."

I continued flipping the pages of his sketchbook, trying to put my thoughts in order. Certainly, someone would have alerted my family. I hesitated on a beautifully ornate page of Kota's book. I looked stunning. It was decorated with musical notes and I was wearing the most vibrant blue dress. Above it in delicate script was written, 'In Remembrance.' I quickly realized that this was to be Kota's tribute when the Palace decided to declare me dead from some tragic illness. He was always the social climber.

He quickly pulled the sketchbook from my hands.

"It's beautiful," I commented lightly.

He shrugged. "It's nothing – just doodles."

I nodded, not in the mood to argue with him over his life choices. He left soon after, making excuses about having some important meeting he needed to attend. I would have given anything to trade his presence with any other member of my family.

There was a lull in the visitors for a long time, which I welcomed heartily. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to just think. My thoughts felt like a jumbled mess lately. I tried to sort them: to turn conversations over and over until they made sense. I tried to take it one thing at a time. I stalled at my encounter with Jason, unable to make sense of anything the Palace had done in my regard.

I heard the door open quietly. I stirred from my reverie.

"I didn't mean to disturb you, Lady America," apologized the Queen.

"You didn't," I assured her. It felt awkward to be dressed in a nightgown tucked into my bed in her presence.

"I just wanted to see how you were holding up," she said with her custom motherly smile.

"I'm fine," I lied. I felt a lot of emotions, but fine was not on the list.

"And to warn you, America," she said somberly. "The next week won't be easy for you."

"What do you mean?"

"This is a difficult situation for everyone," she responded smoothly. She sounded rehearsed, as if each word had been carefully selected. "For everyone's safety – including yours – the King is taking certain precautions."

"What precautions?"

Queen Amberly waved dismissively toward me. "Small things. Temporary things. There will be guards on your door restricting visitors. King Clarkson had heard how half the Palace has seemed to find their way into your room today. This way you can get the rest you need."

I was confused. "When can I speak to my family?"

She sighed slightly. I occurred to me that the situation was awkward for her. "Not until this all clears up, America."

"What do you mean?"

"The rebels have never taken a captive and then returned them unharmed to our doorstep. King Clarkson is just trying to sort it all out. You must understand that it is a very tricky situation that he is in."

"So he's putting me on lock down?" I asked slowly. The gravity of what she was saying was slowly dawning on me.

"It is a temporary situation," she assured me, but it didn't make me feel any better. "I just wanted to let you know that he intends to meet with you this evening. Just tell him the truth, and this will sort itself out."

I nodded slightly as she excused herself. I heard the door lock behind her and the quiet chatter of Guards as they assumed the first round.

I recalled my words to Maxon on the first night that we met: this was indeed a beautiful prison. I had managed to escape one cell only to find myself in another.


	10. Chapter 10

"I could have you hung."

The King marched into my room, startling me from a fitful sleep. I instinctively jumped slightly. Carefully, I positioned myself in an upright position, resting my back against a second pillow on my bed.

Queen Amberly had told me to expect the King the previous evening, and I had sat on pens and needles for hours into the night anticipating his arrival. I tried to rehearse what I would say to him to convince him that I wasn't a traitor, but had come up with no persuasive words.

I yearned for someone to comfort me, but the Guards wouldn't allow my maids to tend to me, no matter how many polite requests I made through the heavy door. The only people allowed into my bedroom were the hospital staff, who had already called on me that morning to tend to my bruises. They wrapped my ribcage tightly, informing me I was lucky that my rib was only cracked and not broken. They supplied me with a ration of small blue pills that decreased the ache and made sleep come easier. I was grateful for that, at least.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself?"

I gawked at him, unsure of what to say. I felt defenseless to his tirade. Was I supposed to beg for my life? Was I supposed to remain dignified, like a future Queen would? Somehow, I imagined that the King would never allow me to wed Prince Maxon, no matter what Maxon's decision was. This instance was just more fuel for his predisposition against me. The thought spawned an ache in my stomach, knowing my objective was harder now than ever.

I tried to gain his sympathy. The previous night I had decided to play the victim; it was the closest thing to the truth I could come up with.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I'm not entirely sure what's going on." I looked at him with large eyes. I tried to allow my disheveled appearance to speak for itself.

He scoffed. "Start from the beginning then."

"Beginning of what?" I asked, confused as to what he wanted from me.

"Of when the Rebels attacked. Leave nothing out," he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I obliged him in his request. I recounted the events of my capture. I retold him how I had been drugged and woke up in a small cell. I told him of Suzie and how the little girl brought me food and water sporadically. I left out my emotional turmoil, how I felt increasingly betrayed with each unnumbered day. I didn't think he'd care. I didn't want him to see me as weak.

I recounted the events of Jason's conversation as honestly as I could remember. I left out the part of Jason's desire for me to wed the Prince. I had a feeling that the King would send me home immediately if he knew that me marrying his son was what the Rebels desired, especially if he knew that my family was at risk if I didn't complete the task.

"Tell me more about Suzie," he stated diplomatically, his harsh tone had lessened at my recount of the events.

"She wasn't there for long. She was constantly talking. I think she said she was a maid – or something." I felt embarrassed now for taking such little interest in her.

He studied me for a long time, remaining quiet.

He finally asked, "What did she say?"

I shook my head slightly, trying to jog my memory back to those cold few days that she had been in my cell. "She just talked mostly, not about anything in particular. How she was certain the Palace would come to our rescue. How… Honestly, Your Majesty, I tuned her out most of the time."

I felt horrible for saying it, but it was the truth. It dawned on me that I had yet to consider Suzie. "Did the rebels return her too?"

The King ignored me. His lack of response reminded me that this was an interrogation, not a conversation.

"Did you see anything that could have given away their location?" he questioned.

"It was all stone and dirt. It was cold. I never saw the outside. But they had some electricity," I added, trying to be helpful.

"Did they threaten you?"

I nodded my head slightly, meeting his gaze. I wasn't sure how to properly play this situation. I knew I couldn't tell the King about Jason's demands, but I had a feeling the King knew when I was lying. His eyes seemed to stare through me.

"What did you tell them?" King Clarkson demanded.

I shook my head. "Nothing, Your Majesty."

"What did you tell them?" he repeated, his tone growing more forceful. He was intimidating. My heart skipped a beat.

"Nothing, Your Majesty," I echoed.

"Why not?" he skeptically demanded.

"I never imagined they would have let me out of there alive – whether I told them what they wanted or not. I'm not a traitor. I didn't want to hurt Prince Maxon – or anyone else," I said slowly, trying to choose my words in the most convincing manner I could manage.

"Why did they return you?"

"I'm not sure, Your Majesty."

"If you're lying, I could have you executed for treason."

I nodded, wanting to crawl back into my cocoon I had made of my bedding. Perhaps I could come out of it transformed into someone who hadn't been forced in the middle of this mess.

And with that, King Clarkson was gone. I head the lock click as his footsteps grew farther away.

As I pulled my comforter back up to my ears, I noticed my hands were shaking. I tried to steady myself, but with each reassuring thought I forced myself to have, several pessimistic ones clung to me.

I reached toward my nightstand and grabbed at the blue pills the hospital staff had left for me. Eagerly, I swallowed two of them with a small sip of water and resigned myself to sleep.

I heard a familiar voice barking commands from outside my door. I tried to place it, but my brain was groggy with sleep and pain killers. I recognized the person before the words that were being exchanged.

Maxon was outside my door. It took me a few moments to realize that the guards were denying him entrance to my room. My stomach dropped.

"This is absurd," I heard Maxon say dismissively. There were footsteps and then silence.

Knowing that Maxon had returned from his trip and was unable to see me made my heart sink. I stared at the ceiling, wishing I could return to sleep and counting all the reasons that I loathed the King of Illea.

Although my curtains were drawn closed, I knew the sun was setting as it transformed my room into a shadowy cell over the course of several hours. The only light that had been turned on was my bedside lamp, and it cast shadows around my room. Instinctively, I returned to the game that I played in the Rebel's stone cell, where I imagined how everything would work out perfectly. It was a break from reality that offered me some small comforts.

"Here are your orders."

It was Maxon's voice from outside my door. Moments later, I heard the clicking of the lock and the slow opening of my bedroom door. I laid perfectly still, almost afraid to breathe in case the scene would shatter back into reality.

"America?" breathed Maxon, suddenly at my side, touching my shoulder gently.

My eyes fluttered. I was uncertain of what to make of the scene before me. I was caught between dream and reality.

He kissed me once gently, ending my confusion.

He looked toward me with pity. We sat in silence for what felt like hours. I basked in his presence, feeling relieved to be near him. My pessimistic outlook lulled with Maxon so close, but I could feel the agitation and fear bubbling inside me. I pushed it down, trying to enjoy the moment with him for as long as I could manage.

"I'm sorry, America." His eyes had lowered to the floor. He looked like a small child being chastised. For some reason, his apology infuriated me. An apology wouldn't give me my week with the rebels back or take back all the heartache he had caused me when Jason showed me those pictures. I didn't want an apology.

I said nothing. My eyes stayed locked on Maxon.

"I worried about you constantly. It's been a mess around here without you," he confessed.

I bit my tongue, trying to hold myself back from some sharp remark.

"I don't want to talk about it," I lied, cutting him off. I didn't want to talk about it like this. I wanted to be able to be angry. In the same moment, I feared appearing too shaken up and falling into a crying fit as I had too frequently done in the past day. I feared losing Maxon entirely. I feared being sent home and losing my family at the rebels' hands.

Maxon nodded slightly, obviously unsure of what to talk about. The air felt stiff with tension.

"I missed you, America," he said softly, not able to resist the urge to press the issue. "I can't believe your back."

"No help from you," I countered, before I could stop the words from escaping my treacherous lips. I promptly bit my bottom one, as if to punish it.

Maxon appeared stunned. He froze.

"Sorry," I mumbled incoherently. My eyes remained fixed on him, studying his reaction.

"I tried to get you back," Maxon said slowly with a determined edge to his voice.

The comment prodded my temper. I wasn't sure what I wanted from him. Certainly not his apologies or his claims of his attempts to help me while the images of him and Kriss lingered in my mind.

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. I felt sabotaged by the Rebels. There was so much pressure placed on marrying Maxon that made it impossible to have an honest conversation at risk of losing him. Without being able to be open with one another, he would most certainly choose Kriss.

If he hadn't already.

The thought stung as I suddenly realized the situation I had been placed in. There were only three left, and Maxon was expected to make a swift and decisive decision from those three Selection candidates. I had been absent a little less than a week.

I shook my head, trying to clear the jumble of thoughts from my brain.

"I did," asserted Maxon.

I nodded, obviously unconvinced.

"Even when I was in Clermont and Columbia, all I could do was try to come up with ways to get you back," insisted Maxon, his tone growing more intense.

"I just don't want to talk about it," I repeated, my head a jumbled mess of words that other people had told me. I couldn't make sense of it all. It was overwhelming.

Maxon was intent. "You can't possibly think that I just left you there to rot, America. You know me better than that. You know I would never do that to you."

I did know that. I had sat in that dark cells for days, believing that he would come to my rescue. But he didn't. I pulled at my red hair, urging my brain to slow down for just a moment.

"It's just all so confusing," I admitted, my voice wavering.

In one swift movement, Maxon climbed into the bed with me, leaving his shoes behind. His arm wrapped around my shoulders and my head instinctively found its way into his chest. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"I would never leave you," repeated Maxon, rubbing at my arm encouragingly. "I could never do that to you, America."

"They showed me the pictures. Of you and Celeste. Of you and Kriss," I admitted, jealousy leaking into my voice.

We were quiet for a long time.

"That must have been hard," realized Maxon.

"It's just the Selection," I responded, trying to play it off as an inconsequential detail, no matter how much it stung.

"I had to keep up appearances," he explained. His voice was coated in guilt in unspoken apologies. "No one thought we'd be able to get you back – it was unheard of. Everyone was pressuring me – to choose."

I sucked at the inside of my cheek. "Have you?"

"You're disappearance has been hard on a lot of people," he explained. I noted his evasion of the question. "Kriss is an emotional wreck. I had to let her go home the next day – just to visit, to regroup. But she was just so shaken up. I'm not sure she could handle this for the rest of her life. And, Celeste puts on a brave face, but she's just not what I want in someone I'm going to spend the rest of my life with."

"And me?" I asked.

"Everything about you is unexpected, America."

"Maxon?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

My words initially took both of us by surprise. They lingered in the air for several quiet minutes. At first I wished I could snatch them back, but then was washed over with a feeling of satisfaction that I had managed to put them out there.

"Let me make all of this up to you," implored Maxon finally. It took me a moment to realize he had reverted the conversation back to the rebel's kidnapping. His evasion burned as my pride and confidence.

"How?" I asked, trying to hide my incredulity.

"Anything – you name it."

"You can't just…You can't just make something up like that," I asserted, baffled by how he thought that was even possible.

"I know, America," he said somberly. "But I want to. I want to make this easy on you. I want to keep you as comfortable as possible."

I smiled slightly. It wasn't quite a return of my admission of how I felt, but it certainly was something.

"I can think of a few thing," I countered with a wry smile, snuggling in closer to him.

"Just name them," insisted Maxon.

"You'll rue the day you made that offer, Maxon Schreave," I joked.

Maxon laughed a deep, chesty laugh. My head shook slightly on his chest. Everything about the moment felt perfect, even if it all was completely wrong.

We spent the rest of the night just talking. I purposefully kept it lighthearted. We discussed everything that we could possibly think of, no matter how completely insignificant. I fell asleep in his arms, feeling entirely safe. The way he held me made it feel like he would never let me go.


	11. Chapter 11

My legs stumbled clumsily underneath me as they tried to keep up with the rotating platform beneath me. Mercilessly, I pushed the upward arrow to increase the speed. The piercing pain in my side each time I took a stride forward served as a constant reminder that the doctors had ordered me to take it easy. With my ankle braced, however, I found freedom in mobility.

Maxon had granted me permission to use the gym in the Palace. It was tucked away on one of the upper wings. It was difficult to find, even when I knew where it was. The room made me feel claustrophobic, and I would have much preferred to run outside. Maxon requested that I didn't. Apparently, it is not considered very lady like to be seen running around covered in sweat.

My shadow stood to the right of the machine. His eyes were focused on me, but it was evident that his mind was elsewhere. On the first few trips, it made me feel uncomfortable to be watched in such a way, but after the last week, it hardly phased me anymore.

His name was Officer Andrews. I would have believed that he was a mute, if I hadn't heard him respond to Maxon earlier in the week myself. Maxon liked to pretend that he was there for my safety during future attacks, but we both knew it was on the King's orders to keep a close watch on me. Officer Andrews silently followed me everywhere I went. Although I assumed that he traded shifts with someone during the night, he was always outside my door when I went to bed at night and when I woke in the morning.

Running helped clear my mind. It also made me stronger. I wanted to be able to defend myself. Maxon understood and wholeheartedly supported my decision. Slowly, he was teaching me defensive maneuvers. It was hard work.

I had been avoiding everyone except for Maxon as much as I could. Walking through the garden made me feel uneasy with Officer Andrews directly behind me. Although I constantly told myself that it was just my paranoia, there always seemed to be more guards around whenever I stepped into the garden. It served as a constant reminder of my prisoner status.

During meals, Kriss seemed to gawk at my black eye, despite its constant improvement. It was gradually fading to an olive green color, and the nurses that tended to me proclaimed it would be gone soon enough. Kriss had begun to remind me of a bird; when someone made a startling noise or movement, she looked as if she would take flight instantly. While my fear had driven me to learn how to defend myself, Kriss' seemed to have driven her to anxiety. She did not look well.

Officer Andrews wouldn't allow me to enter the Women's Room, presumably on the King's orders. The first time I approached the door, he grabbed my shoulder and redirected me to the stairs leading to my bedroom. Despite Officer Andrews lack of words, his message was received clearly. Nonetheless, I tried again the following day and he repeated the same process, shaking his head slightly.

Unable to catch my breath, I jumped from the machine. It continued to whirr as the platform rotated until I managed to hit the off button from afar. The deep breaths felt like fire in my lungs. Endorphins coursed through me.

"Let's head back then," I stated in between gasping breaths. I found that it made me feel less uncomfortable if I maintained casual conversation with Officer Andrews. He had yet to respond, but saying things out loud made me feel more at ease with his constant presence.

As I reached to pull the gym door open, it pushed in my direction. I stepped back as Maxon rushed into the room. As his eyes found me, a smile he seemed to reserve only for me graced his lips. It made my stomach flutter. I sheepishly returned the gesture.

I knew I looked like a sweaty mess, but Maxon didn't seem to notice. He stepped closer to me and gingerly touched the bruise under my eye. He focused on it for a long moment.

"It looks a lot better, America," he praised, his eyes never leaving the mark.

"Doesn't even hurt," I lied with a smile. The bruise was getting better, but it still was sensitive.

He refocused his attention, trying not to stare at the green shadow on my face. "I just wanted to see you. I'm in between meetings. I've been thinking of you all morning," he stated, the rushed pace not undermining the meaning of his words.

"How has your morning been?" Maxon asked.

"Officer Andrews and I have just been here for a while running," I responded, drawing attention to my shadow. He had an uncanny ability to go forgotten. I felt the need to watch what I said around him.

"I've been thinking, Maxon. I was wondering if I could speak with some of Suzie's friends sometime. To get closure or something. I just feel like I abandoned her," I said slowly, admitting a fact that had long been weighing on my chest. Although no one had told me directly, I had come to assumed that Suzie had never been returned. I shivered to think what became of her after she left my cell. It made my heart race.

Maxon looked uncomfortable. I instantly realized the difficult position I put him in, despite his overly conceding attitude lately.

"I mean, Officer Andrews and I could go talk with them sometime or I could just write them a letter that you could read or just…something. I just feel like I completely abandoned her, Maxon," I added, brainstorming ways to make it possible. I knew that the King wouldn't like the idea, that he would accuse me of collaborating treason or some other nonsense to better serve his end game of getting me removed from the Selection.

"It's not that," stated Maxon dismissively. "I've just – I've been meaning to tell you, America. There hasn't been a maid named Suzie in years."

The fact hung the air.

"No," I denied. The longer I was in the Palace, the more difficult it was to remember all the specifics of my capture, except for in the nightmares. "She talked about Mary. She knew things, Maxon. Maybe she wasn't a maid. Maybe she worked in the kitchens? Maybe she went by Susan here? Maybe I'm misremembering the details."

Maxon shook his head. "No one is missing."

I bit at my lip, feeling suddenly in danger. "But Maxon, she knew things."

Maxon wrapped his arm around my shoulder. "It doesn't mean anything, America. Let's get you back to your room, all right? I do need to head back to the meetings."

"I'm fine," I responded, quickly pulling myself together. "We can find our own way back, can't we?"

Officer Andrews remained silent, to which I attributed to be in affirmation.

"You go do your Prince things," I joked. "We'll be fine."

"I'll see you at dinner, then." Maxon seemed reassured and separated himself from me. He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and disappeared down the hall.

Officer Andrews and I exited the gym in the opposite direction. I set the pace and he followed suite. I intentionally led us the long way back, in the most complicated return trip I could manage. He didn't do anything to prevent me from leading him in a series of circular patterns.

While I was down the stairs in the East Wing, I noted Kota from afar. He gawked at me. I wasn't sure if he disproved more of my work out clothes or of my sprinting through the Palace. I pretended not to care, although when I stumbled into Queen Amberly only a minute later, I suddenly was overwhelmed with embarrassment on my behavior and dress.

"Pardon us, Queen Amberly," I said, my eyes finding the floors incredibly interesting. "We were just heading back from the gym."

Queen Amberly seemed to chuckle under her breath. "Did you get lost on your way back to your room?"

I smiled bashfully. "It can just be so terribly boring in there."

The Queen looked at me with pity. "I believe this has gone on for long enough."

I interlaced my fingers and shifted my weight. "With all due respect, I'm not a traitor, Queen Amberly."

"I know, dear," she said with a sad smile. She lowered her voice. "I'll see to it that it all gets worked out."

As the Queen continued on her way, I was filled with a feeling of anticipation. I led Officer Andrews back to my room, and he stood guard of the door while I went inside to mull over my thoughts.

Immediately, my attention was drawn to one of my music books out of place. Since I was no longer to converse with Mary, Lucy and Anne, house keeping would come during the day whenever I left for a meal or to go to the gym. It was unusual for them to mess with my personal items, however. Generally they would do the bare minimum.

I grabbed at the book. A small piece of paper fell from its interior. As it floated to the floor, I was overwhelmed with anxiety. I seemed to know who it was from before I even read it.

**Remember the stakes. Time is limited. –J**

I folded the scrap of paper repeatedly until it was just a small irregular square. My breathing was uneven as I tucked the paper behind the mirror into the frame. I had no safe place to put it. I wanted to run to Maxon, but I had no idea what I would say or do. What could I tell him?

The knock at the door made me jump back from the mirror. I quickly straightened it before Officer Andrews entered the room. He assumed his normal position whenever I had visitors; he stood in the corner of the room closest to the door.

Kriss walked in confidently. It was the first time I had seen her aside from meals since before the Rebels had taken me. At meals, she always seemed worried and was generally quiet. The person in front of me was reminiscent of the Kriss I had known before the rebel attack.

"Do you remember that day in the garden, when we promised each other that when we were certain of Maxon's intentions, we'd let the other know?" she asked, her words falling quickly from her mouth. I did remember the conversation.

"He's going to ask me to marry him, America," Kriss stated. To her benefit, she seemed to try to restrain her happiness. Her words were not gloating or insensitive.

My stomach dropped. I wanted to ask a series of questions, but I bit my tongue.

"Congratulations, Kriss," I forced myself to say.

"Thank you," she said softly, before disappearing from my room.

Officer Andrews lingered in the corner. I didn't stop myself from staring at him, waiting for him to leave so I could process the information I had just been given. It came as a punch in the stomach. I felt like I couldn't breathe.

Aspen stepped into my room.

"Lady America," he addressed me formally. It was the first time I had seen him since the day in the hospital. The majority of his weight rested on a crutch. His leg was wrapped tightly in some kind of bandage material. He moved slowly. His presence felt like salt in the new wound Kriss had given me. "I'm being reassigned and returning home. I just wanted to let you know that I will let your parents know that you are doing well."

I wanted to embrace him. I wanted to apologize for never visiting. I wanted to cry in his chest as he comforted me. I wanted to tell him he looked awful hobbling around like he did. I wanted to tell him all about the Rebels and my family and their threats and the impossible position I had been forced into.

I could do none of these things with Officer Andrews watching the interaction carefully.

"Illea appreciates your service," I said instead, keeping my composure. Tears were welling in my eyes.

Aspen looked at me sympathetically. I couldn't tell if he had heard what Kriss had said or not. "I hope you find your way home eventually too, Lady America."

I faked a smile for Officer Andrews' benefit. "I do miss Carolina."

Aspen hobbled from my room. Officer Andrews followed Aspen. The door shut behind them.

Immediately my world felt like it was crumbling. I crawled into my bed, trying to escape in unconsciousness. When sleep wouldn't come, I instead focused my attention on packing all of my belongings. At least this time I could make the break clean and quick.

The entire royal family was absent from dinner. Celeste and I sat silently as Kriss babbled on about some inconsequential nonsense. I spent the entire meal trying to discern when it would happen. Kriss had no jewelry on her hands, but I imagined it would have to come soon, if she was so acutely aware of it.

I feared for my family when the announcement was made.

I felt like the world had put me in a very firm checkmate, and I had no idea of how to deal with the repercussions.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I'm sorry for the late post! I've been without Internet for the week. Thank you so much for all the reviews – especially the really in depth ones! You guys rock. :)**

"Miss?" For the first time since I had come to the castle, I jumped from my bed. My three familiar maids stood in front of me. An oversized smile promptly adorned my face.

I was covered in sweat from the nightmares that had become a constant nightly event. However, my maids didn't seem to mind as we embraced. Their presence was a momentary relief.

It had been three days since I had last seen Maxon in the gym; he had been absent along with his father at all meals. I had only seen Queen Amberly a handful of times since, and she always wore a heavy, worried expression. Kriss had also been absent from all meals and events.

"What are you guys doing here?" I demanded, overjoyed to be able to see them.

Anne shrugged slightly. "We received our orders only just this morning. We are to prepare you for The Report tomorrow."

"The Report?" I echoed. Since I had returned from the Rebel camp, I had not been allowed to participate in any public events. The public had to believe that I was still healing from my illness. The Palace made it very clear to the press that I was not out of the woods yet. The fact that they could justify my disappearance so easily had weighed on me.

Anne misunderstood my response. "Don't worry. We've been working on a gown for a long time now. Ever since you came back. You will look stunning."

I smiled at the promise, knowing that I couldn't look anything but beautiful in their capable hands.

"You have to tell me everything I've missed," I implored, grateful to have their company back. Lucy climbed onto my bed next to me, ready to tell me every detail before Anne interrupted her.

"While we get you ready," she insisted, pulling me toward the bathroom.

"Ready for what?" I asked. For weeks my responsibilities had consisted of staying locked in my room and running until my heart felt like it would leap from my chest.

"Your meeting with Prince Maxon," Lucy exclaimed, surprised I didn't know.

"My w-what?" I stuttered. I hadn't faced him since Kriss had given me the news of her impending engagement. I wasn't sure how to act around him. This new news shocked me.

"You're supposed to meet him in the gardens in an hour," informed Mary steadily as she took over and guided me into the tub. My mind raced, but I forced myself to stay in the present moment. I would deal with Prince Maxon when it came.

"What have you guys been up to for the past few weeks?" I asked as Mary started tugging at my hair.

"Well," Mary began, leaning close to me as if she was about to disclose a secret, "Lucy went and got herself a beau."

Lucy turned bright red. "That's not true!"

Mary laughed playfully as Anne tried to hide a smile. "She's constantly writing to him."

"Who is it?" I interjected.

"It's nothing," insisted Lucy, becoming suddenly very interested in making sure the fabric of my new dress lay just right. It was a soft blue color with an empire waist. It was simple, but elegant.

"Officer Leger," Mary informed me. My stomach promptly dropped at the news. "Lucy's quite the little caste climber."

"Don't say that," snapped Lucy, with the most ferocity I have ever heard her use. "It's not like that."

"I know," responded Mary softly, realizing she had taken her teasing too far. By way of making up for it, she added to me, "They're absolutely adorable together. Lucy visited him every day while he was in the Hospital Wing with his injured leg."

Everyone was silent for a long moment, each for her own reasons. I carefully stepped out of the tub and dried myself off. Anne guided me into the day dress while Lucy quickly began applying a light coat of make up. She blended the colors expertly to make the shadow under my eye disappear.

I consciously prevented thoughts of Aspen from creeping into my head. I had to focus on Prince Maxon right now, and convincing him to protect my family after his marriage announcement was made. There were larger things at risk.

"There," proclaimed Anne, as all three of my maids stepped away from me. The girl in the mirror looked more confident than I felt.

Thanking them, I slipped into a beautifully decorated pair of flats. The brace on my right foot made heels impractical. Slowly, I made my way toward the garden, hardly noticing as Officer Andrews fell into step behind me.

I saw Maxon before he saw me. He was dressed formally and looked anxious. His face appeared worn and worried. He fidgeted with his pocket lining as he waited.

When he caught sight of me, his expression changed completely.

"You look amazing," complimented Maxon. I brushed my red hair from my shoulder, the delicate curls falling perfectly along my back. I felt somewhat embarrassed that for so long Maxon had only seen me sweaty and in male work out clothes.

My stomach twisted slightly at the compliment. He shouldn't be saying things like that to people who weren't his fiancée. It made me feel toyed with. I had to bite my tongue to prevent myself from telling him how I actually felt about the whole situation. I needed one last thing from him.

Prince Maxon offered me his arm as we stepped into the garden. I hesitantly took it and followed his lead. I noted that Officer Andrews left us at the door, watching our movements from afar.

We walked in silence for a long while. We made awkward glances toward one another.

"Are you happy to have your maids back?" he asked finally.

I nodded in response, acknowledging his question with a faint smile. I tried to find the words to express the concerns that weighed on me, but my thoughts spun in circles.

"I'm sorry Father put you through all of this," Maxon continued, his voice conversational. It astounded me how easily he could make something huge sound like the most insignificant detail.

"I have to tell you something." The words rushed from my mouth before I could stop them. I immediately wanted to grab them back, but was overwhelmed with a sense of relief that it was finally out there.

Maxon paused and turned toward me. "Yes, America?"

"They threatened my family. I need you to keep them safe." I forced myself to focus my attention on meeting his gaze. It was important that he agreed. For the sake of my family, he had to agree.

The hurt was immediately evident on his face. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I... I think they're going to hurt them, Maxon."

"America, you need to be honest with me," he responded. He studied my face intently. I began to tremble. "Tell me everything."

"Please," I implored, desperation soaking my words, "keep them safe."

"Why didn't you tell me this when you first came back?" he asked untrustingly. His suspicion made me nervous.

I took a risk.

"They've been leaving me notes. I thought that they'd leave me alone. I thought that I could fix all of this by myself. But, Maxon, I need your help."

"What do the notes say?" he demanded. His tone wasn't harsh, but insistent. I was uncertain of how to handle the situation. I wanted to be honest with him, but I didn't want him to feel responsible for all of this. I cared about him, despite all that I had lost at his hands: Marlee, Aspen, a chance to make a difference, a chance to end the rebellions. I was not about to lose my family, however.

"That there isn't a lot of time left," I responded after a long pause, deciding to speak in half-truths.

"Time left for what?"

"Before they hurt my family, Maxon," I repeated. I was growing impatient with the situation. "You have to keep us safe."

"What do they want from you, America?"

I remained quiet. There was no correct answer to his question.

"What do they want?" echoed Maxon, his tone growing softer as he closed the distance between us. He was trying to comfort me, but all it did was make me more nervous.

"It doesn't matter. Just promise me." My voice wavered. I allowed him to wrap his arms around me. There was comfort in being close to him.

"You have to tell me, America," he implored.

"Promise me," I insisted, tilting my head upward toward his face. His expression was one of resolve.

"Why can't you trust me with this?"

"Because I want you to be happy, Maxon," I snapped. I pulled myself away from him. My tone softened immediately. None of this was his fault. Not directly, at least. "I don't want you to feel guilty about your decision."

"What are you talking about?"

"Kriss told me," I said stoically. The words caught in my thought. Saying it outloud made it feel too real.

Maxon's gaze found the ground immediately. "She promised she wouldn't."

"She promised me first she would." I had the sudden realization that this was most likely what Maxon wanted to speak to me about this morning. This was most likely the last time I would ever see him in person. I would be forced to watch him live the rest of his happy life with Kriss.

The feeling pulled at my stomach. I had to fight the urge to cry.

"I didn't want you to find out like this," Maxon said softly.

"Just promise to keep my family safe," I implored quietly. I didn't trust my voice to say anything more.

"Of course, America. I'll have them brought to the Palace immediately," he responded promptly. He breathed a sigh of relief. He smiled and looked toward me and started laughing. Soon his chuckle turned into laughter.

It was infectious. Through a slight smile I asked, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing with you is how I expect it. Everything about you it completely unorthodox." He embraced me once more, lifting me slightly off my feet in the process.

I wasn't sure how to respond. I stood awkwardly in his grip, feeling completely overwhelmed.

"I love you, America. Everything about you."

"That's not fair, Maxon. You can't say that to me and marry Kriss. You can't do that to me." My reaction surprised me. My hurt feelings I had been stifling for the past three days erupted as anger. The whole Selection wasn't fair, but this was on a whole new level.

"Marry Kriss?" His laughter increased exponentially.

"It's not funny." I shoved him, forcing him to stumble backwards slightly. His amusement only increased my anger.

He shook his head, stepping closer to me once more as his laughter died down.

"America, I want to marry you."

"You-what?" I processed the words slowly, trying to find the loophole and waiting for the inevitable 'but' to come. It never did.

"America, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. It's always been you, since before the Selection even officially started."

"I love you, Maxon."

We spent the following hours in the garden. I told him everything. I recounted my meeting with Jason as best I could. He told me how he finally convinced his father and how passionately his mother had advocated for King Clarkson's acceptance of his decision. He told me of how Kriss had asked to leave immediately when he informed her of his decision, while Celeste had opted to leave after the announcement on the Report.

When we finally returned to the Palace, I felt a huge weight lifted from my shoulders. I returned to my room, feeling like a character from a children's story. It all seemed perfect.


End file.
